The Capitol Games
by Hahukum Konn
Summary: A new era dawns in Panem after the District Rebellion succeeds. How will the reinstated Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, and the Capitol tributes deal with being the necessary sacrifices to settle old scores? AU, spoilers for MJ.
1. Chapter 1

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Plutarch Heavensbee**

They're going to do it.

By all the forgotten gods of ancient legend, they're going to reinstate the Hunger Games one last time.

Even after ex-President Snow choked on his own blood and President Coin's assassination was not punished (you can't punish the Mockingjay herself, now can you?), the Victors' Vote was revealed and President Paylor chose not to cancel the Capitol Games, as they're going to call it.

It isn't hard to guess who was made Head Gamemaker for the last dying cry of the brutality of Panem.

I didn't want to do it.

I sat there at the first cabinet meeting under the new President. Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were all there as observers. I recognized some of the victors from the other Games as well. I wasn't sure why Hawthorne was there, but I assumed the victors were there to make sure things got done.

President Paylor said, "The Capitol Games will be set for two months from now. Secretary Heavensbee, you're to be the Head Gamemaker for this."

My jaw dropped momentarily. As I tried to recover, Hawthorne spoke up. "If he won't do it, I'll be more than happy to." Something flashed in his eyes, and Katniss's jaw set as she briefly looked at him. I've heard the rumors that Gale was actually behind the plan that killed people in the City Circle, one of them being Katniss's sister. If that's true, Gale Hawthorne has been out for revenge and won't stop just because the war's over.

I wasn't really sure I'd like to think of what he would consider appropriate for an Arena. Hastily, I replied, "No!" I caught my breath and continued. "No, that's fine. I'll do it. I'll need a budget and people to hire, Madam President."

Hawthorne sharply said, "Then I want to be a Gamemaker."

I stood up, my ample bulk positioned in a way to give gravity to my voice as I responded, "What experience do you have that justifies me hiring you for the job? Watching the Games isn't enough. Can you evaluate the tributes? Can you help design an Arena? Assist with the logistics of all the behind-the-scenes work that goes behind the televised Bread and Circuses we call the interviews and the chariot rides?"

Gale pointed at me and snarled, "Just having been a slave of the Capitol ought to be enough! By rights we should be putting _you_ on trial, Plutarch."

I bowed my head. "I realize that." The gift of drama hasn't left me yet, though. I looked him in the eye as I continued. "Under the new laws being proposed, the 'crimes against humanity' provisions would apply to me. I have actively aided and abetted the deaths of hundreds of teenagers in my job as Gamemaker. I freely admit that my role in the Rebellion, as much as it was motivated by my knowing that the Capitol was doing wrong, does not change the fact that my post in this government is colored by that past.

"But Mr. Hawthorne, unless the blanket pardon President Paylor signed has been revoked, I am not about to be charged and sent off to trial. I might also add that 'crimes against humanity' could apply as well to what some of us did in the Rebellion. Am I not guilty there, as well? As director of the war effort I sent people to knowingly kill Peacekeepers and people in the Capitol."

I hoped that being addressed as a man and not a child would mollify Hawthorne, and the comment about the rebellion would warn him off, even if I talked about my role and not his.

President Paylor broke in, saying, "Hire him. Half the Gamemakers are dead anyway, and aside from the few who were your Capitol contacts during the Rebellion, the other half have been tried under the crimes against humanity laws. You may as well start with people you know."

I sighed. "Fine. Gamemaker Hawthorne, you're with me. Is there anyone else who wants to be in on the nepotism wagon while we're at it?"

The victors looked uncomfortable, shaking their heads.

/\/\/\

And that was that. I ended up with a grab-bag of old and new Gamemakers. The old ones are my contacts, and the new ones are from the Districts and are reasonably intelligent.

Most are just happy to have jobs. The Capitol's financial system was destroyed during the Rebellion, as the banking system's computers took a direct hit from a hovercraft. Ironically, I proposed that tactic because throwing the money system into chaos would reduce morale, since money was so computerized. Unfortunately, since the rebellion was actually successful, it means a rocky start for New Panem since we have to print money for the time being.

We're slowly getting things back up and running, but when people don't get paid, that's a bad situation. Regardless, it'll last us just long enough to pacify the Districts with their Revenge Games, as I term it in my head. My first stop is to find where the hell Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith have gone.

Then I've got to convince Effie Trinket to come back and be the announcer at the Reaping we'll have at City Circle.

/\/\/\

_Some weeks earlier..._

**Asedio Avalon**

Things have been confusing for the last week. All I really know is that after months of shortages, rationing, constant patrols by the Peacekeepers, the first sign that things were different was the rumble of distant explosions early one morning in the middle of winter. Not six hours before, the entire Capitol had gone into complete lockdown: nobody in or out of any building. My girlfriend Jovanna Dacius had sneaked over to be with me just before the lockdown. She lives maybe a ten minute walk from my place.

Then all hell just about completely broke loose, as building after building blossomed in fire and smoke as hovercrafts zoomed down from the skies to drop bombs. Terrified, I huddled with Jovanna under a blanket as we sat on a couch, watching wide-eyed through the window as we saw flames and plumes of smoke billow out over the skies of the Capitol. Occasionally, repeating clattering sounds would echo through the Capitol. We suspected there was fighting on the streets as well, and the clattering was from hand weapons.

The next couple of days, filled with _boom_s and the continual rattling of the room, are still hazy in my head. The electricity had gone off in our area. Jovanna and I managed to get water out of the tap, so we didn't die of thirst, and we also had some dry rations. But we dared not open the freezer. Mom had told me to leave it closed, because it ran off a small backup generator she'd scrounged up from somewhere. I think she stole it from work, actually.

My mother hasn't been home for the last week either. She has, or had, a job with a genetics lab. I had no idea if she was alive or dead until a day after the booms and rumbles stopped. I found out when I woke up, and there was a harsh banging at my door. I opened it, my eyes widening at the burly rebel standing before me. He consulted a datapad, asked my name, then told me my mother was being held "for questioning about her participation in muttations research."

My throat went dry. I rasped, "I've _got_ to see her!"

The guy shook his head and said firmly, "All people suspected of aiding and abetting the Capitol's war against the Districts are being held in a secure place. No visitors. You will be contacted with further details when the news nets are back up."

I was ready to beg, but my pride wouldn't let me get on my knees and plead. Jo said, "_Please_. Let my boyfriend see his mother. Just for a little bit?"

All the guy said was, "Absolutely not, miss. No visitors."

I stared at hm and couldn't say anything else as the man turned his back on us and left. _Muttations?_ But wasn't Mom just one of many workers who did research into genetics? Mom had always been a bit vague about what she did, telling me I wouldn't get much out of the details.

After letting the door close, I sat heavily on the couch, my head in my hands. Jovanna sat next to me, rubbing my leg. All she could say was, "I'm so sorry, Ace."

I shrugged, trying to damp down my emotions. "I'll find her eventually, Jo. At least your parents are okay."

Jo looked a bit guilty as she said, "Well, as far as we know. Damn it, I shouldn't have sneaked over here. I should be with them!"

"At least you managed to calm them down over the videophone after the Capitol went into lockdown," I said as I gently grasped her hand. "And to be honest, I'd probably be going crazy right now if you weren't here."

We cuddled on the couch, with Jovanna snuggled up next to me. She closed her eyes, resting her head on my chest. I felt tired and before I knew it, we both fell asleep.

/\/\/\

The electricity came back on the next day some time before we woke up, so we spent the entire day watching the news nets, desperately eager for any information at all. We were definitely going to get a new government; President Snow's arrest and upcoming trial was announced with some relish by Plutarch Heavensbee, named provisional Secretary of Communications. Jovanna had smirked and said, "That guy sure gets around; wasn't there a big fat reward for his arrest after he was exposed as a traitorous Head Gamemaker?"

I had chuckled, nestling in a bit closer to her. We tried the videophone network to see if we could get hold of Jo's parents, but all communications channels were still reserved for government use only. I had no idea who to contact about Mom and all we could do is wait, watch the news and hope. A curfew was announced, going from dusk to dawn.

Unfortunately, the bad news about my Mom's situation got even worse later in the afternoon when the e-mail alert popped up.

Our television is fully-equipped as a videophone, electronic mail – you name it, it's got it. Well, the list of backlogged e-mails comes up, and the newest one is blinking red, dated today. Stalling for time, I notice the subject line of the previous message: A mass announcement that the Capitol is off lockdown.

But the one blinking in red…

I swallow nervously, clasping Jo's hand as I tap the message on the screen with my finger.

My mother's been held for trial, and the horrible truth emerges in a cold, impersonal message listing the charges against her.

She wasn't just a grunt in a genetics lab; she was actually the _head_ of an entire research division devoted just to making some of the most vicious, disgusting muttations in preparation for attacking the Districts! The pictures attached as proof of what she'd done made me gasp in horror. Speechless, I read the seemingly endless list. There were semi-sentient lizard hybrids, carnivorous butterflies, plants with super-fast poisons… I even saw the resequencing of human DNA with wolf characteristics to make the creatures that chased down Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark at the end of the 74th Games. There was more. A _lot_ more.

Overwhelmed, I shut off the television. Jo and I end up huddling in my bed, as though making a cocoon with bedsheets and body heat could keep out the bad news of the world collapsing around me.

I whisper, "What are they going to do to Mom?"

I wish I could see Jovanna's purple eyes in the darkness under the bedsheets. I've always liked her brown hair, her pretty face, the way she wears her clothes so well. But it's her eyes that have always held me. She had them modified before we met, because she hated the plain brown eyes she had before. I think she just looks even better with the purple.

My own eyes are a vivid electric blue color, a popular fad that swept the Capitol when the star-crossed lovers first made themselves known. Peeta Mellark's eyes were too plain a blue color, so the modification centers cranked the dial to eleven and out came, well, electric blue. I was one of many fifteen-year-olds who got that eye color when they re-sequenced our eyes.

Jovanna puts her hand on my shoulder, saying, "I don't know, Ace. I really don't know. Look, they could execute her for this. We did it to the Districts, you know. Step out of line, and you're dead."

I swallow convulsively. It's not something we think about a lot, us Capitol kids. In the past, it was a matter of small items on the news nets – "the family of the Victor Janna Hanson, from District Ten, met with tragedy as her sister was accidentally struck by a Peacekeeper hovercar" – or even rumors that swirl around about a friend's sister's cousin's BFF becoming an Avox.

Nobody _really_ knew anyone who was an Avox – at least not in my social circle – but we all just _knew_ that you could be made into one if you did something really bad.

It has become even starker with the ongoing reports about open rebellion in the Districts and a propaganda war between the Capitol and the District rebels. People have fought and died in those battles I saw in the news.

Jovanna's just telling the truth I've always known. And if we did things like that to the Districts, what's to stop them from executing my mother? Jovanna? Me?

I say, "Jo, do you think they'll find out we sponsored that girl, Glimmer? They can't kill us just for that, can they?"

Jovanna hugs me. She's trembling. Oh man, why did I have to mention the two of us getting executed? Mom will be bad enough, but for us to be staring down the barrel of a gun, or to be forced to drink poison? No wonder Jo's so scared.

The world has totally changed around us. Nothing makes sense. All we've got is each other and I need to just… escape. Escape into my own little world where it's just me and her, where we can be safe.

My mouth joins Jovanna's as we kiss.

The kiss changes from gentle to frantic, our hands roaming over each other's bodies, stopping only to yank our clothes off. Jo says nothing, just encourages me to keep going. I'm determined to lose myself in wild sex as she arches her back to push herself against me with each thrust. I can't think about anything else, which is good.

/\/\/\

I wake, confused. All I know at the moment is that I'm in Jo's arms and my legs feel sore. Her legs are wrapped around me and we're naked. The bed sheet is half off of me, and there's still some light shining in the windows.

Memories filter back into my consciousness, and I'm slightly in awe of myself that I managed to lose all awareness of anything around me when we had sex.

I shake Jo's shoulder. She sleepily blinks, waking up as she yawns. I can feel her legs tightening a bit, then releasing as she finishes yawning. She says, "Feel any better?"

"Just tired, Jo. And kinda sore. Wanna take a shower?"

I'm hoping the water's working if the electricity's back on. I've got stubble all along my jaw and I need a shave badly. Plus, we stink after sweating like crazy in my bed.

We disengage from each other, walking somewhat oddly. I tease Jo for that, and she just flips her hair and says, "My girlfriends stopped being jealous of me walking funny a year ago, Ace. Remember?"

We've been dating since just after I turned fourteen. I'm sixteen now, and so's Jovanna. We had sex for the first time on her fifteenth birthday. The way she put it, she was giving herself a very special birthday present. I'm just lucky I didn't screw anything up that first time. We've gotten better since then.

We step into the shower. The hot water's working, and we luxuriate in the ability to completely clean each other thoroughly. Afterwards, we dry off. Jovanna begins fixing her hair up as I shave. I grin as I rub my clean-shaven cheeks and jaw.

She turns to look at me, and her pupils dilate just a bit. Even amid the seriousness of everything that's happened around us, her obvious attraction to me at that moment prompts a mild make-out session. After I break the kiss, I say, "We should probably get ready. I've gotta find my Mom, and we should find your parents."

Jovanna replies, "Yeah, you're right."

I'm a bit angry with myself now for taking valuable time. "Damn it, we shouldn't have done it earlier…"

Her hands on my shoulders get my attention. "_Ace. _Listen to me. I wanted it as much as you did. I was as scared as you were and I needed to _feel_ you."

I nod, not wanting to say more. Jo likes to play dress-up doll with me, sometimes, and today I let her, knowing I need something normal to latch onto. So I cheerfully tolerate her combing my jet-black hair into a conservative style, and getting me into a suit that isn't wildly psychedelic or weird-looking.

Jo looks at her outfit, and shakes her head. "This won't work, Ace."

Confused, I blurt, "What?"

My hands find my pants pockets as she explains. "This was my party outfit – the first thing I threw on when I wanted to see you. But now we're in occupied territory. You think the District people running things here will like it if I show up looking like those Capitol escorts at their Reapings?"

She's right. If we somehow find out where Mom is, they're going to think Jovanna's mocking them if we show up with her in that outfit. Shame washes over me as I remember dressing up like the District Four tribute from the 72nd Games at a wild party my friend Arcturus put on around the time of the last Victory Tour. It was this skin-tight greenish-blue outfit that had glittering scales on it, making me look like a sea creature of some kind. It drove Jo wild, and Arcturus stared at me when he thought I wasn't looking, too. To be honest, I don't remember all of what I did at that party, but it was fantastic at the time.

But all I can think now is what a disgustingly shallow, drugged-up party boy I was that night.

I sigh heavily. "C'mon. You're not that much shorter than my Mom. We might as well raid her closet."

It's one thing to say it, but I hesitate before I open the bedroom door at the other end of the condominium. I know she's gone, in jail somewhere, but even so, opening it will make the whole thing _real_. That she's not coming back any time soon.

_Fuck it._ I open the door and tell Jo, "I'm not really sure where she keeps all her stuff. Can you, um, try to leave everything the way it is?"

Her eyes rest on me sympathetically as she gently squeezes my bicep before letting go and walking inside.

I retreat back down the hallway a bit, and wait while my girlfriend dresses in my mother's clothes. I tell myself my mother would have gladly lent Jo clothes if asked. It still doesn't change the _wrongness_ I feel. It's only gonna get worse when—

A slight cough gets my attention. I try to steady my breath as I realize Jo's in my mom's business outfit – the one she wears when she tells me the government is sending an inspector and everybody has to look professional. Of course, now I know my mom was lying. She was _meeting_ those government people, giving them those horrid muttations for Games or for the war.

It still doesn't stop me from feeling like Jo's an usurper when she's in those clothes.

I mumble, "You look good. Really."

Her mouth quirks a little. "Try not to lie to me too much, Ace. I might get the wrong idea."

I sigh and look directly into Jovanna's eyes. "Look, this just _sucks_, my mother being arrested and all. But really, you fit into the suit well."

"We should get going and find my parents before dark. Do you have your wallet and ID?"

"Shit! I knew I forgot something!"

I scramble to find my identification. Luckily, my bedroom's not too disorganized yet, so I find my wallet easily and stuff it in the inside pocket of my suit.

Jovanna's face is white as she realizes she left all her stuff at her place. In peaceful times, not having ID was no big deal, and the Peacekeepers almost never bothered with us anyway. Now, though, I have no idea what might happen.

"C'mon, Jo. We'll walk fast and beat the curfew, okay?"

I make sure the keycard for the door still works so we're not locked out of my place, and we head to the elevator. It's time to go out into the new Capitol of a new Panem.

* * *

Author Notes: I've had this idea for an AU for a while now and was twiddling it around in my head until finally I got the notion to write it mostly from a Capitol teenager's POV. He's a bit of a wild kid, as you've seen, but he has a conscience. Question is, will he keep that sense of perspective now that he knows his mother lied to him and that she's up for trial?

I want to thank **xXKillerxxCupcakeXx** for beta reading this chapter for me! :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Asedio Avalon  
**

We're at the doorway on the ground floor, looking nervously through the glass. It _seems_ calm out there, but I still feel like any moment there'll be another loud _boom_ and flame and smoke will billow into the sky. We were damned lucky to get away without the building we were in being bombed or shot at.

I lick my lips and reach out for Jovanna's hand. I breathe deeply, then say, "Okay. This is it."

We push the doors open and exit onto the street. There aren't any holes in the pavement, but after noticing something odd a couple of buildings over, I notice some of the windows are missing. The expensive stuff is supposed to be self-repairing, but even it won't stand up to heavy impact forever. I wonder who died in the shooting battle, and why the rebels even wanted to be in that building.

Jovanna shakes me out of my reverie, gripping my hand. She says, "C'mon. We've got to hurry!"

We walk fast, trying to stay close to the buildings. It's the scariest ten-minute walk of my life. The streets are totally devoid of activity.

There's no hovercars anywhere. There's no ground-cars. All the shops are closed. There aren't even any other _people_. Not everybody in the Capitol can be dead, can they?

It's so eerily, unnervingly, _quiet_.

After a couple of blocks, we go around a corner, spying Jovanna's house among a row of small, expensive-looking houses that are surrounded by bushes taller than an average person. Some of the houses have decorative trimming done to the bushes.

Just before we can turn off the sidewalk to go to Jovanna's house, a hand clamps down on my shoulder, scaring me so badly I nearly faint as I yell, letting go of Jo's hand.

I turn around, breathing heavily. As I see who it is, the blood drains out of my face. It's a Peacekeeper with a new insignia, and he's got a very nasty-looking weapon pointed at us.

I reach around Jo's shoulders and clutch her tightly to me. She's got her arm around me as well, hanging on for dear life. I can feel her hyperventilating in fear.

In a small voice, I whimper, "Don't shoot me, _please_."

The man's voice is gravelly. He says, "Make no sudden moves. And keep your girlfriend where she is. You know we've got a curfew now? It's almost dusk."

Oh, _shit_. I need to lie my way out of this.

"N-No. Look, I'm really sorry," I babble. "We just heard the Capitol's off lockdown and we wanted to—"

The Peacekeeper rolls his eyes. "Shut up. Not interested. You live around here?"

We nod fervently. Jovanna points wordlessly to the house we're just a few meters away from.

"Okay. I'll let you off this once. But if you're caught out near curfew far from home, it'll be a _very_ uncomfortable night in detention. Got it, kids?"

Again, we nod in unison.

"Ok, go into your house. Move it!"

We waste no time practically scrambling away from the Peacekeeper, who marches up the street on his patrol.

The chest-height entry scanner to the side of the gate that will let us in off the sidewalk is working. Jovanna sticks her thumb on the indented scanning plate, and the screen lights up reading, "ACCESS GRANTED."

She sighs shakily in relief as the gate swings open, and I join her sigh as we go up to the front door, hearing the gate close with a clang.

Before we go inside, I hug Jo, squeezing as I sniffle a little bit. I whisper, "That Peacekeeper..."

She nods into my shoulder. I feel her chest swell then contract as her breath steadies out. She whispers, "I was _terrified_! If we'd been any farther from my house—"

I rub her back soothingly. I say, "We're here. Look, we'd better go in. Your parents will be really happy to see you."

She chuckles nervously. "Or really mad at us."

"May as well face the music." I release Jo and press the door signal, deciding it would be best to let her parents know we're there instead of barging into their house.

The door opens, and Mr. and Mrs. Dacius see us. I'm just happy their faces show relief and happiness at seeing us alive. Swiftly, they envelop Jo in a heartfelt hug, then bring her into the house.

I follow them indoors. Mr. Dacius turns to me and says, "Hello, Asedio. Glad you brought her home safely. You should know curfew was announced just a while ago."

I shudder and say, "We found out the hard way how strict they're enforcing it. Look, I need to tell you something."

He says, "First you need something to drink. Don't forget your shoes."

I take off my shoes, enjoying the feeling of safety and security now that I'm actually inside somewhere. I reach out to shake Mr. Dacius's hand, who returns it. His grip is reassuring, not threatening. My concern that they might blame me for Jovanna being away drops another notch.

At the dining room table, Mrs. Dacius has the Cuisinator whip up some hot chocolate. She says, "I'm sorry we can't get you two any food, but we're strictly rationing ourselves and to be frank, this chocolate's a bit of a luxury."

Mr. Dacius says, "Thanks, Clara," as he takes the mug.

I sip the wonderfully hot and sweet beverage, wondering what to say to Jo's parents. My mom's been arrested, but they've got to have their own problems and now that they have Jo back they may not want her to go back out. I don't blame them.

Jo's father turns back to me and says, 'What's this about finding out about the curfew the hard way?"

"We actually got caught just outside your house. The Peacekeeper let us go, though."

His eyes go wide and he says, "What the—? We should complain about them arresting people even before curfew's officially started!"

Mrs. Dacius firmly says, "Titus."

I have to smile. That's the same tone Jo used with me at school one time I was with her, insisting that I was going to stir up a real storm over a homework assignment, and she shut me down just like that.

Sure enough, Jo's mom continues, saying, "Who will we complain to? Let's just be happy Jo and Ace are safe, all right?"

Jo had told me to suck it up and not whine about the assignment. It's scary how she's like her mother sometimes.

Mr. Dacius takes a measured sip of hot chocolate and nods. "You're right. I just—this has never happened before in our lives! Now, Asedio, what's this you want to tell us?"

I'm suddenly not eager to dump this on them. Glumly, I look at Jo, who briefly pats my arm.

Jo says, "We found out Ace's mom was arrested and she's going to be put on trial."

Shocked, Mrs. Dacius puts her hand over her mouth. Mr. Dacius's hands clench around his cup as he says, "Is Elena okay?"

I shrug helplessly. "All I know is someone actually came to my place when the power was still out and told me my mom was arrested. Then after the power came back on, this e-mail came telling me about the charges."

"Show us," commands Mr. Dacius.

I walk over to the videophone in the living room and quickly get the e-mail up. I gesture half-heartedly at the screen and say dully, "There's the charges. Read 'em."

I slump into the armchair over to the side so I don't have to read the thing again. The feeling of pressure on my shoulder makes me look up. It's Jo's hand; I smile at the emotional support. I lean back in the comfortable chair, wishing I could hold Jo right now. But I kind of don't think that would go over well.

A few minutes later, an astonished whistle yanks me out of my funk.

Mr. Dacius says, "Asedio, I hate to say it, but if these charges are correct, your mother was deeply involved in some pretty horrific animal experiments. Did she… ever explain any of this to you?"

I'm still lost, just was I was when I first saw the list of charges and the pictures. "That's what I don't understand. My mom _lied_ to me about all this!" Angrily, I clench my fists. "Why couldn't she tell me the truth?" Mockingly, I repeat what she told me once: "'Oh, Ace, it's not important. I'm just running a PCR today and a gel electrophoresis tomorrow. Nothing you'd be terribly interested in.'"

Mrs. Dacius says, "Oh, these pictures are so _dreadful_! I'm shutting this off."

Jo stays beside me as her parents move to a nearby couch opposite the videophone.

Mr. Dacius says reasonably, "Ace, if she was working for the government of the Capitol she _couldn't_ have told you, but did she never say any of it was classified, or…?"

Bitterly, I reply, "No. She obviously decided I was just a stupid druggie party boy. Too stupid and zonked to understand."

Jo blurts, "That's not true, Ace!" She kneels next to me and turns my head to face her. "You know it's not. Look, we go and have fun every couple of weeks. That's not the same as going out _every night_ like that jerk Ovid and his friends do, showing up so zonked the next day they can't even tell which way is up sometimes."

"I just… I just wish—" I identify the emotion I've been feeling since I had to tell Jo's parents. "I just really resent this, okay?" My voice cracks as I say, "It's not fair and I feel like it's all _her_ fault!"

Mr. Dacius leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingers clasped. He says reassuringly, "Ace, we'll find out where your mother is by first thing tomorrow, all right? You've had a rough week, kid. Get some sleep. I'll try to contact some people, people I know who might be in the new government." He looks at Jovanna and says in that weirdly parental tone that somehow mixes resignation and warning, "Jovanna, Asedio can sleep in your room. But just for tonight."

Even though I've been here before, I've never been allowed to sleep over in Jo's room. Surprised, I still manage to blush, the heat rushing all over my face. It's funny how they're a little old-fashioned in some ways, but I've never really been annoyed by that. I mean, Mom was at work a lot and Dad has been dead for years, so Jo and I got away with a lot more than we probably should have. Maybe having that outlet was why I didn't mind her parents' boundaries as much.

But her dad's right. I need to decompress and I just want to hold Jo and fall asleep in her arms. So I smile gratefully at her parents and stand up. Even though the sun's barely set, I'm starting to lose my energy. I say, "Goodnight, and thank you."

Mrs. Dacius says, "We'll see you tomorrow. Be decent when you wake up, okay?"

This time Jo and I manage to both blush like ripe tomatoes. We hurriedly escape the living room and rush to her bedroom, hoping to avoid more parental admonishments.

Jo gives me her toothbrush after she's done with it, and snorts when I stare at it. "What? We've kissed so many times, a toothbrush isn't gonna matter." She swats my ass and I yelp. But the sheer _normality_ of playing around like children puts a silly grin on my face as I take a quick swat at Jo's ass, prompting her to stick her tongue out at me. As I'm grabbing the toothpaste, I say, "Don't show me that unless you're gonna use it."

That provokes a laugh from her, and she leaves to go change into her nightclothes.

I finish up in the bathroom, sneaking in a quick shower. I'm gonna have to wear my clothes to bed, I guess.

I step into Jo's bedroom, and she holds out what looks like a pajama outfit to me. Geez, what is it with wearing parent's clothing these days? Those _have_ to be her dad's. We're a pretty liberated society, but even I draw the line at wearing girl clothes – which Jo's pajamas would qualify as.

I whine, "Come _on_. Those can't be…?"

Jo giggles. "Dad came by and gave these to me. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed, me or him. But he's happy I'm safe and he's worried about you, you know. He _does_ care, Ace."

I mumble, "Yeah."

I take the pajamas and go into the bathroom to change. I see that it's like a shirt and pants, only they're made of a comfortable material for sleeping in. After I'm done, I step back out and Jo takes my suit outfit. She sets my clothes aside and says, "We'll get these cleaned in the laundry unit tomorrow."

Jo's room is nice. Her parents got her a double bed for some reason. It's all white – the cover, the pillows, even the bedsheets. It actually sort of resembles some hospital beds I saw in vids.

Her dresser is covered with perfumes and other knickknacks, and she's got a full hair styling unit in the corner of her room. I remember seeing her use it once. All she had to do was sit down, put this big bowl-like thing over her head, and after a minute she'd come out with a completely different hairstyle. It was _so_ cool. She even had me use it once, but after seeing my hair come out the same shade of blue as my eyes, I kind of shied away from using it again. I'm just thankful she never got the idea to dye her hair her eye color.

We get into bed on opposite sides. As Jo slides the cover over us, I sigh in happy relief. I'm safe, I'm going to sleep and I'm with Jo. I'll get to see Mom tomorrow. For now, that's all that matters. I snuggle up next to Jo and wrap my arms around her.

She kisses me, but before my hand can wander, she breaks the kiss and touches her forehead to mine. "Goodnight, Ace. Sleep well, okay?"

"Yeah. You too."

With that, I close my eyes and drop straight off to sleep.

* * *

Author Notes: I hope those who are reading this enjoy it. :) I've made a couple of minor corrections to the previous chapter to hopefully improve the flow going into this one.

Thanks go to **xXKillerxxCupcakeXx** for the beta reading on this! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Asedio Avalon**

I wake up, a bit confused as to where I am. Realization hits as I feel someone else next to me; it's Jo, who snuggled into my arms, her head and left hand resting on my chest. She looks peaceful, a change from the stressed expression she'd have when we'd try to snatch a few hours sleep here and there in between the bombs hitting the Capitol and the sporadic shooting and shouting we'd hear.

I'm feeling just about as relaxed. But I remember her mom's warning, and gently slip out of bed, pressing a kiss to Jo's forehead. She smiles in her sleep. I'm not sure what to do about my suit of clothes since it needs to be cleaned before I can wear them. Should I take them to the laundry myself, or…?

Hearing Jo's voice causes me to turn around. "Morning, big guy," she says before she stretches and yawns.

"Hey! Sorry about that. I thought you might want your sleep, Jo, so I slipped out of bed without waking you up. Um, what do you wanna do? Should I shower first, or you go first, or what?"

Jo comes up to me and takes the suit. "I'll get this freshened up for you. Go, get ready. I'll comb your hair like I did yesterday."

I protest, "You don't have to-"

She smiles. "Let me, all right?"

Jo gently squeezes my shoulder, then gives me a slight shove toward the bathroom.

At the threshold to the bathroom, I call out, "Hey, Jo?"

"Yeah?"

"You know you look hot in that nightgown, don't you?" I wink and grin.

She tries to repress a laugh. "You're not gonna get me naked this morning, Ace. Save it for another time."

I put on an exaggerated sad expression as I say, "Oh, darn."

Jo points. "Shower, mister."

I go into the bathroom immediately after that and get ready for the day. I peek out into Jo's bedroom and see that she's just bringing my suit and my mom's clothes into the room now.

I wave. Jo responds, "Hey." She brings my clothes over and hands them to me, after which I close the bathroom door again and get dressed. Once I'm decent, I open the door and say, "Okay. Do you want to do my hair now or later?"

She shrugs. "Later, if you don't mind? My parents are already up and they want to talk to you alone."

"My mom," I blurt.

Jo nods solemnly. "Yeah. You should go find out. You can tell me later."

"Okay. And Jo? Thanks for doing my clothes for me. 'Preciate it."

I step over and kiss her on the lips. Our kiss deepens, then we slowly break it. I put my hand on Jo's shoulder briefly, then leave the room to get breakfast.

/\/\/\

Mr. Dacius is sipping his coffee at the kitchen table, reading over some handwritten notes. As soon as he sees me he gestures me to the seat next to him. Mrs. Dacius hands me a cup of coffee as I sit down. I take a sip, and realize it's the cheap reconstituted stuff that's been the only kind you could get since the shortages began.

Oh well, it'll wake me up. The food is just a few fruits and vegetables. I grab an apple and begin chewing on it as Mr. Dacius explains to me what he has found out.

"Ace?"

He rarely calls me that, so it must be pretty important. I sit up straight and listen.

He continues talking. "Here's what I've found out. One of my friends, a man named Marcus Declan, was a mid-level employee in the old government's judicial arm. Because he wasn't well-connected politically and was basically your average file clerk, the new government reassigned him to be in charge of all the jailed Capitol citizens. This morning, before you woke up, the government announced where the holding centers are for people awaiting trial, and said no visitors were currently being permitted to enter as of last night, but they would issue further updates today.

"Marcus was going to start relaxing the restrictions on visitors today, but has decided to make an exception for us. Normally, Ace, only you would be allowed in to see your mother. But because I've explained your situation, he's granted Jo, Clara and me a waiver to be with you if you wish us to come with you to see your mother. She's being held at a converted Execution Center, which was also used to make people into Avoxes."

I lean back in my chair, overwhelmed. I breathe out heavily, running my hand through my hair. I reply, "Okay. Uh, first things first. Yeah, I'd like you guys all to come with me. Second, why are they not using a real jail?"

Mr. Dacius shrugs. "I assume it's because they've arrested so many people, or more ominously, Ace, they're having some very quick executions. Marcus said he's heard of trials taking as little as ten minutes, followed by execution."

My eyes bug out as I gasp, "_Ten minutes?_ Oh, no! We need to see Mom _now!_"

Before I can jump out of my chair, Mr. Dacius grabs my arm. "Ace! Wait! Marcus personally guaranteed me that your mother is still alive and that her trial, if any, won't be scheduled for another few days. He says they're running records searches, whatever that means, and it's slow because they have to reconstruct them from backups."

I scowl. "What could they possibly need? They've all but convicted her already, if that charge sheet I was e-mailed says anything."

Jo comes into the room, dressed in my mom's suit outfit again. She says, "What's this about records?"

"I have no idea, sweetheart. It could be anything from wanting to find more charges to press against Asedio's mother or maybe finding out she wasn't as responsible as they thought."

I've lost my appetite. I stare at the half-eaten apple and barely-touched coffee and my stomach rebels at the idea of consuming more. Jo has the hairstyling stuff with her, and she says, "Enough moping, Ace. We'll find your mom and get this all figured out. Now sit up. I need to fix your hair, all right?"

I grumble as I sit up, waiting for her to put gloves on. The gel is a bit cold, and I yelp slightly as Jo starts slicking my hair in preparation for combing it down like she did yesterday. Mr. and Mrs. Dacius watch us with little smiles on their faces. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

Before long, my hair's presentable, and I get approving nods all around. I try to take more sips of my coffee, but finally the bland taste and my emotions stop me from being willing to drink any more. Jo's a bit better, having gulped down all her coffee and eaten most of her apple. She nods at my apple and says, "Take it with you. You'll need the energy."

By unspoken mutual agreement, we all stand up and make our way to the hovercar garage, which is underground. The roof is in the back yard, covered by artificial grass. Once it's open, we can leave and be on our way.

I chew on the apple and throw the core into the garbage disintegrator at the corner before hastily swallowing and entering the rear seat. I buckle myself in, and once that's done, Mr. Dacius presses a button on the console which signals the garage roof to open.

It's all automatic if he wants it to be. There's a guidance computer that can take the car anywhere in the Capitol, adjusting for weather, traffic, you name it. He keys in the destination as the car hums to life.

As we rise into the air, I can't keep the grin off my face. It was always fun to ride one of these, although Arcturus's idea of hovercar fun was a bit weird. Let's just say that racing at 200 kilometers per hour against one of his sports rivals was a blast, and that none of us got caught doing it. Next time, though, I'll make him put the speed governor on which limits air speed to 160.

This ride promises to be more sedate. I look down onto the streets, and see people milling about, but not a lot of ground-cars. I see buildings with cracks in their walls, destroyed windows, and in a couple of cases, I see suspicious smears of red on the street.

The traffic computer informs us that there's a Capitol-wide speed limit of 50 kilometers per hour, and altitudes above 200 meters are restricted to emergencies and government vehicles.

Obviously, the new government wants to clamp down on travel until normal times return. But a question blooms in my mind: when _will_ things go back to normal? If they ever do?

/\/\/\

When I see the building, I'm confused. Why are we going to a building emblazoned with the insignia for Alliance Incorporated? It's a shipping company, as far as I know.

Mrs. Dacius seems to have noticed my confusion in the rear-view mirror and says, "The Capitol liked to hide its darker side, as I found out from Titus's friend last night."

I whisper, "_That's_ an Execution Center?"

I don't need an answer. _Shit. This is not good._ I feel so fucking naïve. I must have seen the Alliance Incorporated buildings a dozen times and never given them a second thought.

As we fly over the building, I see a huge crowd has already coalesced near the entry doors. We touch down at the far corner of a crowded parking lot attached to the building, and walk along the pavement to see what's going on.

The building itself is an ordinary-looking grayish-white warehouse. If I didn't know what was really inside it, I could believe it was just another shipping company, from the looks of its wide bay doors at the rear to accommodate large ground transport and aircraft.

As we get closer, we see that Peacekeepers are standing rigidly near the entrance, calmly but firmly pushing people back who try to get inside. There's incoherent shouting and people waving personal datapads.

One of the people at the rear sees us and says, "Good luck trying to get in! My son's in there, and I want to see him. But they've already announced that they haven't decided who to let in yet."

Slowly but steadily, we push through the crowd, my hand holding onto Jo's for dear life as I follow her parents through the mass of confused and scared people.

Finally we're in front of the Peacekeepers; one of them is already raising their gloved hand to stop us. Mr. Dacius bellows something into the person's ear, which makes them stop, cock their head, then speak into a small microphone attached to their helmet. I still can't see if the Peacekeeper is male or female under the hood they wear, which polarizes to keep the sunlight from getting in their eyes.

They're all also wearing the new Panem insignia that's replaced the old one. I put my arm around Jo's waist and look at her nervously. She puts her arm around me, her hand rubbing my back. It helps soothe me a bit, and I'm not shaking as badly. We're so close and yet all it takes is a word from one person and I won't see Mom.

After what seems like a debate back and forth between the Peacekeeper and someone inside the building, the Peacekeeper flips the hood up – she's a woman, to my surprise – and pushes a button on her belt. She speaks into her small microphone, and her voice reverberates around the area.

"Attention! We will start calling out names of people who have been imprisoned here. If you are in some way connected with the person inside, you will be asked to give verbal or electronic proof. Verbal proof must be more than a name, and we reserve the right to refuse anyone entry for any reason. If there is any disorder we will open fire.

"Is that understood?"

As the echoes die away, the crowd responds with a variety of affirmative noises.

The woman consults a datapad and calls out, "Elena Avalon!"

Mr. Dacius raises his hand and says, "That's us." He hands her his own datapad, which contains the charges e-mailed to me as well as, I assume, the waiver.

With ill grace she gestures us inside, and the crowd's mood surges in eager anticipation. I don't even hear the next name as we rush inside the doors.

* * *

Author Notes: Credit goes to **Silver Tongued Wonder** for the basic idea of buildings the Capitol gives false names to in order to fool people. She has also given permission to use the name of the fake company name the Capitol uses to disguise their true purpose.

Thanks go to **xXKillerxxCupcakeXx** for the beta reading on this! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Asedio Avalon**

A guard inside the building has heard the announcement and points down one long corridor, barking, "Go directly forward down that corridor. Do not make any turns."

We whisk past several offices which ostensibly appear to be for the normal business of shipping, but little things indicate the picture is not quite right. The locks on the doors are stronger than they need to be, and I briefly see a thick vest hung off a door; it looks like the ones Peacekeepers wear.

Finally, we end up in front of an opaque force field, flanked by two guards. One comes forward and says, "State your business."

Mr. Dacius hands over his datapad. "We're here to see Elena Avalon."

"Okay. All of you stand still. Weapons check."

The guards pull scanning batons from their belts, which light up and stay a steady green as they wave the batons over us. At the end, the one who hasn't spoken so far moves back into position, and the other one says, "Clean. You related to the prisoner?"

Mr. Dacius puts his hand on my shoulder. "Her son is here, and we've been given permission to be with him."

The guard nods as he peruses the waiver, then hands the pad back. "All right. Wait until the field clears, then go in. Ask one of the guards inside about her."

The other guard enters a code, wiping the field clear and letting us enter a hall with reinforced doors set into it at periodic intervals. This must be the actual jail portion of the Execution Center. A shiver runs up and down my spine as I realize that Mom is in one of these rooms. _What must she look like after a week and a half?_

More guards are in this area, and the nearest one stops us. "Name of the prisoner?"

"Elena Avalon."

The guard consults a datapad and nods. "Cell number 137. Let's go."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, then follow the guard as he takes us through the jail, with Jo's family following me.

At the cell, the guard slides an ID card through a slot on the combination keypad lock which is at chest level, then enters a code.

He gestures to us. "Which one of you is related to the prisoner?"

I step forward. I'm not much shorter than Mr. Dacius, who's 183 centimeters tall, and I weigh about 75 kilos, but the bulky guard near me makes me feel like I'm a little boy again. He barks, "Put your left eye on the retinal scanner. Afterwards, place your Capitol identification through the reader. Your identity will be recorded. Any conversation you have with the prisoner may be recorded. If it is, such recordings will be attached to your biometric profile and will be kept by the government for one year. Any indication that you are assisting the prisoner in an escape will be used as evidence in your trial. Is this understood?"

I swallow nervously and nod. I try not to think about some unseen person overhearing the things – private things – I want to talk to my mom about. I place my left eye over the scanner, waiting for the red light to blink out. Then I extract my universal ID card from my wallet and swipe it through the reader. The tiny screen reads AVALON, ASEDIO and continues with my particulars. The guard gives it a cursory look, then presses a green button on the lock.

As the guard opens the door, I look at Jo, who's smiling nervously. She rubs my back briefly and says, "Good luck."

I glance at Mr. and Mrs. Dacius, then enter the cell. The door closes with a loud _thunk_, momentarily startling me. The harsh fluorescent light shows my mother lying on a thin bed that barely deserves the name. I sit on the other one, looking at her for a moment.

She's dressed in what are obviously the same clothes she wore a week and a half ago, and she looks like she's lost some weight. She seems to be sleeping presently, though the shelf of a bed she's on doesn't seem comfortable. Hesitantly, I reach for her shoulder, whispering, "Mom? It's me, Ace."

Startled, she wakes up, looking around. Her eyes settle on me and her jaw drops in disbelief. She sits up, reaching for me. In an instant, we're embracing each other, and I feel safe again just for a few moments.

Mom's starting to cry. She's shaking and I'm awkwardly trying to soothe her, saying, "It's all right; I came with Jo's family. We're gonna make sure you're okay. I'm happy you're alive, Mom. Really happy."

A sniffle threatens to escape my throat, and I try not to think about it. I _have_ to hold it together for Mom. I _have_ to.

Mom withdraws from the hug to look at me. She takes a deep breath to steady herself and says, "What's _happened_, Ace? How in Panem did you find me?"

I breathe a huge sigh. "I dunno where to start. The Capitol was invaded – you know that much. Jo and I got stuck in the apartment when the bombs hit. The electricity got cut off for a few days. The news nets have been just _crazy_, Mom. There's a new government and that old Head Gamemaker is in it. We've got a new President, too – her name's Coin. President Coin. She used to run District Thirteen."

Mom just stares at me. I stumble over the rest of the recap.

"Um, the Capitol's off lockdown and Jo and I got back to her parents. Her dad found out where you were, and… well, we're here."

Mom says, "I was at the lab when the invasion began and the Capitol was locked down. We hid out, but the rebels blasted into the building and took us all prisoner. We were shunted around from building to building for a couple of days, and then I got put in this cell here. I kept asking them where you were, but the guards wouldn't say anything except you'd been told."

Panicked, I blurt, "Mom, _please_ tell me they've been feeding you, at least!"

It's odd how reassuring Mom can be even in a jail cell. She just pats my shoulder and says, "Of course. Just basic rations, though. And I'm let out once every few hours to wash up, though they haven't let me get new clothes."

She looks at me and says, "There's something you haven't quite told me, though. What is it?"

_The charges._

Slowly, as though I have to drag it out of myself, I reply, "They sent me a list of what you were up to all those years in the lab, Mom. They're chargjng you with being the originator of all those muttations they say the Capitol was going to use against the Districts."

Mom sits on her bed and leans against the wall, looking suddenly weak and tired. I'm suddenly not feeling very charitable as I sit down across from her. "And when were you gonna tell me the _truth_, Mom?" I ask accusingly.

"Huh, Mom? You weren't just a worker there. You _ran_ the lab! All those times you had to work late – all those times you had to be away a couple of days… that wasn't really true, was it? Who were you really seeing? What were you really doing? Damn it, I think I deserve to know!"

My fists have clenched, and I have to relax with an effort.

Mom won't look at me. She talks off to one side of me as she says, "It's true. Ever since you were ten, I have been the director of the Facility for Genetics Research, as it's called. I reported directly to the Minister of Internal Security. I occasionally even met with President Snow himself. I couldn't tell you, Asedio. It wasn't safe, and you didn't have the right security clearance."

I snort. My eyes narrowed, I reply, "Right security clearance, my _foot_, Mom! Tell me the truth, damn it. You didn't want to tell me because you decided I was too stupid, is that it? More important to make sure your son's distracted with his girlfriend and parties, huh?"

I grit my teeth. "And don't think I've missed how you used to give me a lot of money every time you took off for one of your little _meetings_. What do you think I blew it on? I feel so fucking _manipulated_, Mom. It's like you waved a big shiny thing in front of me to keep me being a completely naïve _idiot_. The only way I could have been any stupider is if the drugs sucked all my brain cells out!"

Mom's upset. She frowns and shakes her finger at me. "Asedio Avalon, that is _not_ fair! You should know by now that the truth isn't black and white – that sometimes you have to hide it because otherwise bad things will happen to you! What in Panem do you think would have _happened_ to me if I had told you and you had gone off and said something incautious at school?"

She's right. I still can't help feeling bitter about the way the lies that covered all of our lives are being ripped away, one after the other. It's so hard to believe that everything I knew, right from what I was taught in school to what my own mother did for her job, has all just been a big shining lie to cover the ugly truth.

Even so, it might have been a bit easier…

My voice cracks as I softly say, "I just wish you had _trusted_ me, Mom."

I lean back against the wall, my foot up on the bed as I rest my elbow on my knee, my head in my hand. I can't keep it together anymore. I just can't.

The tear escaping my eye breaks something inside me and I give in, letting the stress of just _everything_ overwhelm me as I close my eyes, sniffling as more tears begin to flow.

After a few minutes, I manage to collect myself and I look up at Mom, who seems to have been on the edge of tears herself. I'm grateful she left me alone to cry myself out for a bit.

I sigh. I can't take this anymore. "Mom, I gotta go. I know I should stay, yadda yadda, but if I stay here any longer we're probably gonna have an even bigger fight. Look, we'll try to get you a lawyer and stuff but…"

Mom stands up, beckoning for a hug. I swallow my feelings of betrayal and hug Mom, knowing this could be the last time. She softly says into my ear, "For what it's worth, Ace… I'm sorry."

I say, "All right, Mom."

Mom moves so she can look me in the eyes. She fusses with my hair like she used to do when I was just a kid, which forces a small grin out of me. She says, "Just remember. I love you, Ace. I always have and I always will."

I look away. It's so complicated. I love my mom too, but I'm still feeling a bit hurt and I can't _think_ in this claustrophobic jail cell.

Mom seems to understand, because she lets go of me and moves back a bit. She says, "Will you come to my trial? Please?"

I shrug. "If they let me. I honestly have no idea what's gonna happen. They could execute you as early as tomorrow, you know."

Mom closes her eyes, taking a fortifying breath. "Then since this might be the last time I see you, I want you to know that assuming the old laws are in place, you are the sole beneficiary in my will. Everything I own will be yours, and you will be legally emancipated even though you are not of the Captol's age of majority."

I don't know what to say. She's made it all sound so _final_. So I just nod and walk to the door to knock loudly on it.

After the guard opens the door, Mom says, "Goodbye, Ace."

I mumble, "Bye, Mom."

I hastily escape the cell and follow Jo and her family to the fresh outside air.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Asedio Avalon**

I barely notice anything on the ride back to Jo's place. All I can do is let my mind whirl with the realities I need to face:

My mom is alive.

My mom admitted she lied to me and manipulated me.

My mom still loves me, even after the things I said.

My mom will go on trial.

My mom will almost certainly be executed.

I'm going to lose Mom forever.

Did I ever even really _know_ my mom?

She was distant most of the time, and I don't really remember us doing much of anything together after I turned ten. Before then is kind of hazy because of my dad dying and trying to get through that.

My thoughts turn again to the charges she's going to be put on trial for.

Is my mom evil?

She doesn't _look_ like an evil person. She never hit me, never swore at me… and yet she made muttations. I never liked the creatures in the Hunger Games; they always made me uneasy and nervous when I had to look at them.

The _things_ she made were going to be used to attack human beings. That leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Isn't it evil to make animals that attack people?

Can an evil person love her son?

I wish I knew.

/\/\/\

It doesn't get any better when we get back and Jo puts the news on while her parents take off. Her mom's trying to find some food for the Cuisinator, and her dad's doing something, but I have no idea what it could be.

We're treated to a recap of Finnick Odair's revelations, intercut with a grudging Haymitch Abernathy who briefly answers questions.

"Did you know of these revelations at the time you mentored Katniss Everdeen, Mr. Abernathy?"

He scowls. "What do you think? That I told Peeta Mellark to stay close to her for giggles? For him to marry her was the only way out of this mess."

Finnick's on again. His eyes look so haunted as he seems to struggle to stay calm and dignified; he's just told the whole world he was a whore for President Snow.

Another lie from the Capitol: that Victors came back because they wanted to, because we loved them so very much that we welcomed them into our arms whenever they visited.

In reality it was because they or their loved ones would be dead if they refused to come at someone else's beck and call.

But is it true we didn't know? Somehow, I think we always knew, and told ourselves a lie to drown it out.

Haymitch is on again. Did he know for sure if other Victors were used like Finnick was?

He grimaces. I'm afraid he'll tell his own story, a story of years of abuse at the hands of people in the Capitol.

I'm guiltily relieved when he gruffly says, "Not me, that's for sure. But I heard the usual stories. Kept my ear to the ground. When you're drunk it can get a little fuzzy, but I paid attention. I'll tell you Cashmere and Gloss were used that way. I could tell because they were the ones who'd leave at odd times from the Training Center."

He takes a sip from his coffee cup, but I suspect it has more than just coffee in it. "They didn't really say much to me, though. I can't say anything about Johanna. That's her story to tell, if she has one and wants to tell it. Enobaria, same deal. You have to ask her. But I'll say in general yeah, if you were young and good-looking you could expect a little chat with Snow."

Finnick's seemingly endless tale of the backstabbing and betrayals in the Capitol enthralls me, even as I know I shouldn't be watching this. It's not good for me. It's just another reminder of lie after lie after lie.

I just want to smash something, anything. But I dare not do it in Jo's house. She's the only one who's never lied to me.

The thin thread of hope that keeps me from sinking into the refuge of my own mind is that Jo is not a liar.

As though my thoughts were a signal, Jo's hand under my chin gets my attention. The television's off now. She kneels in front of me so she's at eye level with me in the chair. Gently, she says, "Ace? Are you okay? Dad's set up a bed for you in our guest bedroom."

Her dad comes up to us and says, "You can stay here for a while, Ace – if you want, that is."

I look up at him and say weakly, "Thanks."

Then I realize mom's lawyer. "Um, Mom needs a lawyer. Can you…?"

Mr. Dacius shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I tried while you and Jo were watching the news. But they're refusing all outside lawyers. Only court-appointed ones are allowed. They_ claim_ it's so the trials move faster, of course."

Yeah. I really believe that, too. I softly say, "Well, at least you tried. Thanks for everything, Mr. Dacius."

Jo's tugging my hand. Wearily, I stand up, yawning. She guides me into the guest room, and I collapse onto the bed, passing out instantly.

/\/\/\

I wake up to Jo stroking my hair.

I have no idea what time it is, but it's nice to know Jo cared enough to come and see me while I was sleeping.

Something's wrong, though. She's… crying?

I sit up in a hurry, clasping Jo's hand in my own. "What's wrong?" I search her face for a hint.

She laughs hysterically. "What's wrong? What's _wrong?_ Ace, look at what's _happened_ to you! How can you possibly _stand_ it?"

I snort. "Jo, I've fallen apart enough times it almost seems kinda normal now."

"Your mother's in jail, and she could get executed! Did you know they reported it was muttations from the Capitol Facility for Genetics Research that killed Finnick Odair? Your mother helped kill Panem's celebrity, Ace. That's what they're saying!"

Something makes me frown as I let go of her hand. "Wait a second. The Facility… were you guys watching me and my mom talking?"

She closes her eyes and says, "Yes. The guard put on the video and audio monitor for recording purposes. I… I didn't want him to be able to hear your private discussion, but what could I do?"

Humiliation rushes through me. Jo saw me break down and make an utter crybaby of myself in front of my mother. She saw me find out my mother lied to me.

I want to be angry at her, but somehow I just can't pull up the energy to do it. And hurting her would just make me a complete asshole.

So instead, I draw her into a hug, with her seated beside me on the bed. She's quivering, whether in fright, fear or some other emotion I have no idea. I say, "Let it out, Jo. Just let it out."

She needs this. Somehow I know she needs to bawl and cry and sniffle. It's good to do, even if it makes you feel numb inside afterwards.

Jo rests her head on my shoulder, her body quivering as she silently sobs. The stress of things must be getting to her. What must it be like, watching me as my family's destroyed by the need for revenge on the Capitol?

What was it like for her, watching the buildings in the Capitol get smashed in billows of fire and smoke, wondering if we'd be next?

I wrap my hands around Jo, rocking her slightly.

After several minutes, Jo regains her composure and she relaxes. She looks at me and wipes her face, saying, "Now I know how it felt for you yesterday. It just felt like everything crashed in on you at once, didn't it?"

Glumly, I nod.

"My dad's been on the videophone in his office some more. Your mother's trial has been scheduled. It's tomorrow in the afternoon, around two o'clock, I think. Anyway, hearing that was the final straw and I just _had_ to come see you."

I feel like the breath has been knocked out of me. But there's no point arguing with anyone about it. It's going to happen, and they're going to kill her.

I mutter, "I'm gonna go back to sleep, okay?"

She runs her hand through my hair and kisses my forehead. "Thank you for being strong for me, Ace. I'll try to stay strong for you."

I smile. "You already have, Jo. You were there for me when I needed it. Just keep being my rock."

She stands up, helping me back into bed and arranging the covers over me.

I fall asleep again, letting the darkness push away my troubles.

/\/\/\

I'm with Jo and her family in the small courtroom in the Execution Center. They're not even giving my mom the dignity of a trial in the Capitol's Central Justice Building.

When we came in, I saw Mom had already been brought in. They wouldn't let me talk to her, but we did exchange waves. She looks so alone in the prisoner's dock. She hasn't been handcuffed, but I guess they don't think she'll try to escape from a force field.

There's an armed Peacekeeper standing next to a computer console located just in front of the judge's bench. His face is stern and he'll brook no nonsense.

The lawyers are coming in now, unpacking their suitcases at the prosecutor's and defence tables respectively. The defence lawyer takes a moment to introduce himself to Mom, while the prosecutor is setting up a presentation module.

There's a couple of strangers near the back of the room with computers and a small camera. The media, I guess.

The Peacekeeper touches his hand to his ear and barks, "_All rise!_ The Honorable Judge Travers is in the courtroom!"

As we all stand up, a grey-haired woman enters the room in judicial robes. She seats herself and barks, "Be seated!"

She clasps her hands in front of herself, leans forward and says, "Peacekeeper Goran, please initiate the Trial Recording."

The man presses a button on the console and announces, "Recording initiated, Your Honor."

The judge continues. "Today I have on my docket the case _Provisional Government of Panem versus Elena Avalon_. The charges I have before me relate to conspiracy to commit assault, conspiracy to commit manslaughter, as well as participation in a joint criminal enterprise for the purpose of aiding and abetting the commission of war crimes.

"Pre-trial, discovery and trial are all combined and my docket is quite full today, so let's keep things simple. Any initial motions?"

Defence rises up and says, "Your Honor, I contest the legality of these proceedings as the Provisional Government has not declared itself the legal successor state to the State of Panem. I move that these proceedings be dismissed and the charges voided on those grounds."

My eyebrows lift. Is this lawyer actually _trying_ to help my mom?

Jo's watching everything keenly as well.

Prosecution rises as Defence is seated. "Your Honor, we have had these motions raised before. Each and every time they have been denied on the grounds that the legal system in force prior to the formation of the Provisional Government has been adopted by the decree of President Coin, acting on behalf of the Senate, which is currently unable to function."

As the Prosecutor sits down, the judge mulls that over. She says, "Regardless of your obvious irritation with these motions, Mr. Sprague, Mr. Drayson is required to act in the best interests of his client. Motion denied on the grounds that the decree in force is legally valid."

_Shit._

Prosecutor Sprague stands back up and says, "We move to satisfy the legal requirement of pretrial discovery by a brief presentation of evidence before trial begins."

The judge barks, "Motion granted. Get it done quickly, please."

_Oh, no_. He's going to show those pictures again.

A heavy weight seems to sink into my stomach as I try not to look at the images flashing on the screen mounted on the left side of the courtroom while the Prosecutor drones on with things like, "Exhibit Seventeen: Experimental snake/mammal hybrids developed to create poisonous warm-blooded fast-moving predators. Placed in pods around District Nine as well as underground in the Capitol to attack invaders."

Even the Capitol wasn't spared in the lab's effort to put these frightening animals to use. How Mom could stand to do this work, I have no idea. She _had_ to know what these things could do – what they were to be used for.

Finally, the last exhibit is presented, and at this point, it's useless for me to even hope Mom has a chance.

The judge seems unaffected by the imagery as the lights come back up, but I can see Mom's head is bowed. What is she thinking? Is she regretting it now, after all these years?

The judge says, "All right. The evidence is considered to be entered into the court record and unless the defendant raises objections or has evidence to introduce, we'll move into trial proceedings."

Mr. Drayson holds up a memory card that fits into any standard reader. He says, "I would like to distribute copies of a records search pertaining to my client."

The judge nods, accepting one card and sliding it into her reader at the bench. After a quick perusal, she says, "I will accept this as evidence pending appropriate questioning of a witness. Any objections?"

The prosecutor, who is viewing the records in his own reader, says nothing.

"Right. I open trial proceedings. Opening speeches – and make them _short_, gentlemen."

The prosecutor stands up and says, "Your Honor, I believe the matter at hand is straightforward and simple. Elena Avalon is not just a lab technician with limited responsibility for these monsters that have been used to attack rebel forces now in control over the Capitol, and which have been used against unsuspecting tributes in the Hunger Games, and which, even today, threaten free travel between Districts because pods of these monster muttations have been placed in the regions between official District boundaries.

"In short, Your Honor, we believe we have a sufficient case to make that Mrs. Avalon, who holds a Master's degree in molecular biology with a research specialty in genetics, and I note that the topic of her thesis was specifically with respect to cross-species breeding, had both the necessary technical knowledge _and_ sufficient authority over the Facility for Genetics Research to warrant deeming her fully culpable for all that came out of that Facility. Thank you."

Prosecutor Sprague sits down, and Mr. Drayson stands.

"Your Honor, the defence will contend that Mrs. Avalon, while given substantial authority and leeway as the Director for the Facility for Genetics Research, was nevertheless considered politically unreliable and did not feel fully free to question the overall direction set down by the previous government. We will stipulate as to her working relationship with the Minister of Internal Security and President Snow.

"I might also note that I have had a chance to see the record of charges that was sent to her son, who I believe is in attendance today, and the lurid imagery presented in that charge sheet would seem to be intended to be purposely prejudicial to the interests of my client. What purpose does it serve to inflict the images on a young man who was not present at the Facility for Genetics Research at the time of her incarceration? Was any consideration given to how this might affect the trial should he be called as a witness?

"We therefore will contend that sufficient reasonable doubt exists as to the full extent of her responsibility for the experiments as shown in discovery today, and that contamination of potential witnesses has already occurred and throws the integrity of this trial process into doubt.

"Thank you."

The judge nods and says, "Mr. Sprague, call your first witness. And be advised that if the allegations raised by the defence have merit, I may have to dismiss the charges."

A tiny bit of hope rises within me.

The prosecutor looks a bit sour-faced at this, but otherwise simply presses a button on a datapad.

I wonder who it'll be. I'm curious now.

"Prosecution wishes to call Frieda Travers from the Ministry of Internal Security."

A woman swiftly walks in through the door on the right and stands in the witness box. The Peacekeeper barks, "Do you swear to tell the complete truth at these trial proceedings?"

"I do."

The prosecutor begins questioning the woman, and we discover that this woman was in charge of coordinating deliveries of mutts from the lab to all parts of Panem. This establishes the link between the pictures and the statement Sprague made about the pods being placed all around Districts.

Then it comes out that Mom did indeed have regular meetings with the (apparently, now very dead and very former) Minister of Internal Security and President Snow.

The images are directly from minutes of those meetings. In some cases, Snow had even personally requested that such animals be made.

It seems pretty solid. Mr. Drayson's cross-examination is brief and doesn't shake the strength of the previous testimony. He seems a bit discouraged as he sits down.

"Any more witnesses?"

"None, Your Honor. Prosecution rests."

"Mr. Drayson, call your first witness."

"Defence wishes to call Jackson Lyman from the Ministry of Internal Security, seconded to the Ministry of Vital Statistics."

Eyebrows go up all around the courtroom. Why is he calling someone else from the same government body when he could have cross-examined the other person better?

After the man is sworn in, Drayson begins.

"In my hand is a records search overseen by you regarding Elena Avalon. Did you provide me with those records?"

"Yes."

_Ah, that explains it._

"Good. What was your position in the old government, and how does it relate to your new one?"

"As you probably know, I worked in the Ministry of Internal Security. Since the new government has formed, I have been in charge of cross-referencing surveillance and other data in Internal Security with miscellaneous non-confidential data stored in other government branches, most notably Vital Statistics. In a sense, I am part of an effort to shine a light on a previously very dark part of our past."

Drayson nods. "Would you discuss the particulars of the extent of surveillance on my client?"

The man clears his throat and begins. "Almost from the moment she was promoted to the position of Director of the Facility for Genetics Research, Elena Avalon was observed and followed on a routine basis. In part, this was standard procedure. However, after a few months it was clear that her political reliability was in question. Her husband, Belisarius Avalon, died under suspicious circumstances. He had briefly flirted with a faction in the Senate later found to be in opposition to President Snow, and we had reason to believe she was aware of this, as she continued sporadic contacts with some of the assistants of the Senators who later were arrested or who died."

Prosecutor Sprague breaks in, saying, "I object. Witness is straying from the initial question."

The judge shakes her head. "I'll deny that. But Mr. Drayson, be aware that your questioning should be on matters relevant to this trial. Witness may continue."

"We did not take much trouble to hide our surveillance initially, and it is for this reason that we suspect she became overzealous in her new position to compensate. Her son was also placed under light surveillance, but this became sporadic and was discontinued when he became romantically involved. His mother seems to have encouraged this safe nonpolitical activity."

Drayson seems to be thinking. He says slowly, "I wish to clarify one or two things. Was my client ever ultimately judged politically 'reliable'?"

"She cooperated fully with her superiors. However, even though she dropped her contacts within two years of her husband's death, she occasionally expressed viewpoints considered mildly contradictory to the government. In and of itself, minor. But when combined with other circumstances…"

"Yes, I see. So would it be fair to say that my client was likely always aware of this and felt somewhat constrained in her ability to exercise truly independent authority over the Facility for Genetics Research?"

The man shrugs. "It's possible."

"Who served Asedio Avalon with the notification of charges? Was it you?"

"No. That would have been someone in the Ministry of Justice."

Drayson looks at the judge, who shakes her head and says, "Any material witnesses should have already been given to me prior to the trial. You'll have to abandon this line of questioning."

_Fuck._ That destroys his case for a biased trial.

"Thank you. No more questions."

Cross-examination is brief. The prosecutor wants to try and establish that Mom had more authority that his last answer to Drayson implied, but the result is a mixed bag, since there's no record, either from covert surveillance or the official records of the Facility, that she ever failed to fulfill a request. On the other hand, she had encouraged multiple independent projects on more efficient ways to generate good DNA matches between different species.

Overall, not good. My hope is squashed to nearly nothing.

The judge says, "Any more witnesses?"

"No. The Defence rests."

"All right. Closing speeches. Be brief."

Both prosecution and defence basically rehash their opening speeches, with specific references to witness testimony.

The judge sits for a good two minutes, thinking.

My palms are starting to sweat. My mom's life is in this woman's hands. What is she going to _do_?

Finally, the judge speaks up. "Given the time constraints of this trial – which has already gone on for over an hour – I have given all the thought I can to the verdict. Notwithstanding the potential mitigating circumstances brought up in trial today, it is my decision that Elena Avalon was fully aware of the nature of her duties and as such no reduced culpability attaches. I therefore declare the defendant guilty on all charges."

I feel like I've been punched in the ribs. Mom turns around and looks at me for the first time. I look back helplessly.

"Having declared the defendant guilty, I now ask the defendant to rise."

Mom and her lawyer stand up.

"Elena Avalon, as you have been pronounced guilty on all charges, I hereby sentence you to the death penalty, to be carried out within the hour. In the spirit of compassion, given that I see we have family in the audience, you will be permitted to meet with them prior to your execution."

Mom gasps, putting her hand to her mouth. I close my eyes, trying not to let anything show.

Just like that, I'm going to lose my mother and I'll never be able to see her again. I'll never be able to find out if we could have made a better mother-son relationship.

Jo buries her head in my shoulder and my arm automatically comes up to hold her. I feel adrift, lost. Time seems to slow down.

The judge barks final instructions at the Peacekeeper, who yells, "_All rise!_ Trial session is hereby ended!"

We stand, and I look at Jo's parents, who are giving me sympathetic looks. The Peacekeeper's escorting Mom over to us. He says, "Follow me. You will be allowed to meet with Mrs. Avalon in a few moments."

Without a word, we follow the Peacekeeper through the jail complex, ending at a brain-destruction chamber. It short-circuits all the neurons instantly and kills the brain cells in doing so. It's a painless way to commit suicide, and I'm pathetically grateful my mom won't suffer when she dies.

We're allowed to visit in a tiny room just a couple of doors away from the chamber. Mr. Dacius goes first. His expression is somber as he gently clasps my mother's hand.

"Elena, I want you to know I am so sorry for all that has happened to you."

Mrs. Dacius reaches out for her other hand and says, "What Titus says goes for me too. I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now."

Mom says hesitantly, "Thank you, Clara… and Titus. Just look after my son, please."

It's now the younger generation's turn.

Mom reaches out for me and Jo, and we end up in a hug triangle. Jo's close to crying; I just feel completely numb.

Jo says, "I'm only sorry I didn't get to know you better, Mrs. Avalon."

Mom's response is to grip Jo's shoulder a little more firmly and attempt a smile.

I say, "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry I wasn't a better son. I should have—"

She cuts off my rambling with a kiss to my cheek. "Asedio, don't worry about the past. It's done and over with. Just be here with me for the time I have left."

"Okay, Mom."

She smiles weakly again and lets go of us. Jo's put her arm around me again, lending me support. She seems to be trying to control her expression. _This can't be easy for her_, I think. Her boyfriend's on autopilot and his mom's going to be executed.

We stand there, not knowing what to say. I don't want to lose it in front of Mom, but it won't take much to shake me out of this weirdly blank feeling and tip me into another crying jag.

A knock at the door fills me with dread. _It's time_.

I rush over and hug Mom, who returns my embrace. If only I could just get more _time_. So many things left unsaid, undone…

The Peacekeeper taps me on the shoulder, gesturing me away from Mom. I back away reluctantly, and the man escorts Mom out. We're pointed towards an observation chamber. You can watch an execution through the window.

I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can watch my Mom's eyes go blank in death when her brain's destroyed.

I try to step out the door and I freeze. I can't walk any further. I begin shaking so badly my teeth are chattering, and Jo grabs my shoulder, taking me aside as her parents shut the door again. She's rubbing my arm, saying soothing things into my ear.

A minute later, I hear a loud _SNAP_ down the hall, and that's it. It's done.

Jo's parents are somber as they exit with me.

As though leaving the room were a summons, Mom's body is being wheeled out past me. Seeing her blank eyes nearly undoes me completely as I reach out with a shaking hand, only to be stopped by the orderlies. Jo's dad says, "What will happen to her body?"

"All executed prisoners are being cremated. Her ashes will be available next week sometime."

And that's it. Mom's wheeled off to oblivion.

I can't take it. Tears blur my vision as I look at Jo, who bundles me back into the room we were in before. She hugs me close as I lose it completely.

My mother's gone forever, and I'm alone in this world.

Justice _sucks_.

* * *

Author Notes: I want to thank **SkyWriter9** for beta reading this chapter for me! :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Jovanna Dacius**

Ace is in my arms, and he's gone quiet after a few minutes of sniffling and sobbing past what little control he had left. He's still shaking badly, and I wish they had left a chair in this small room in the Execution Center so I could sit down and comfort him a bit better.

I can't even begin to imagine what's going on in his head. I quietly say into his ear, "Are you okay?"

He nods slightly, and he seems to be regaining control.

Dad asks, "Are you ready to go? Do you feel up to it?"

Ace nods again, but weakly. His eyes aren't focusing properly; he seems to be looking _through_ us instead of at us. It's unnerving.

After we bundle him into the hovercar, he falls into a restless sleep, his head in my lap. I stroke his hair, just like I did a couple of days ago when I learned about the trial. He seems to have been sleeping a lot lately, but I can hardly blame him for that.

I've known Asedio Avalon for about two years now, and never did I dream that one day our lives would change so drastically. I only hope I can somehow get back the sweet, wonderful guy he used to be. I know he's been beating himself up lately for feeling so dumb, but he's not. He's actually pretty smart; it's just that like a lot of us at school, I guess we're more interested in having a good time than using our heads.

I fell in love with him instead of just _liking_ him about four months before my fifteenth birthday.

I remember my parents telling me, "It's just a teenage phase, Jo. Don't get too wrapped up in him."

Looking back on that admonishment now, it's so absurdly _normal_. Now, my biggest worries are the aftermath of a war that the Districts have won, not whether I'm too boy-crazy.

Boys aren't usually good with crying girls, but Ace was sensitive and kind when my grandmother died. I mean, we all knew she was old, but it was still a shock because we were so close. She used to tell the most _amazing_ stories about spying for the Capitol during the Dark Days when she was just a teenager, and I admit I fantasized sometimes about being in her place, finding out what the District rebels were up to and foiling their plans.

But back to Ace. He put me first when I needed someone to console me: that's why I fell in love with him. My parents tried to help, too, but Dad and Mom got wrapped up in the whole taking-care-of-everything due to Grandma dying, and when I needed someone, Ace was there.

Feeling naïve isn't Ace's sole province, but he's been hit so much _harder_ than I was. I've stopped imagining myself sabotaging the rebel plans. I wouldn't spit to save the Capitol from a fire now that the news nets have been replaying all the rebel propos and having a field day digging up material about Finnick Odair's revelations, since the new President isn't going to clamp down murderously on anyone who dares mention them.

There was a news blackout the day after Finnick Odair's propo first broke into the Capitol news nets. After that, there were several brand-new reporters and news anchors on the news nets. As though that had been a signal _everyone_ shut up about it in public. Ace almost completely forgot about it, and my friends never mentioned it.

It was safe to do that. Safe to not risk more disappearances.

But now? I bet if school starts up again I won't be able to get it out of my ears.

And that brings me up short.

My hand freezes in the middle of a stroke through Ace's hair.

_Did they broadcast his mother's trial?_

The gossips will just tear him apart. Suddenly, I feel almost murderous towards Trill Shelling and her hanger-on, Iris Folger. They'll go giggling after Ace with hurtful remarks and their boyfriends'll pick it up and he'll probably get into a fight with them.

Ace's idea of physical activity is long-distance running, not fighting. He won't win, and that'll just make him feel worse.

I'm gonna have to talk to his friend Arcturus.

With that, the hiss of the hovercar stabilizing as Dad parks it brings me out of my thoughts, and I gently shake Ace's shoulder. He blinks, and just for a moment his face looks peaceful. But all his memories come flashing back, and I can see his expression change. He's shutting down, trying to protect his emotions.

My heart breaks as I follow him back into the house from the garage.

On our way to the dining room, Ace turns pale. He puts his hand on his stomach, then abruptly runs to the bathroom, shutting the door.

I've never felt so useless in my life.

/\/\/\

**Asedio Avalon**

I'm kneeling in front of the toilet, dry heaving painfully. I'm clutching my ribs wishing it didn't hurt so _fucking much_ when your body rebels by making you throw up.

Breathing slowly and carefully, I stagger to my feet and stumble to the sink. I rinse my face, grab a mouth-rinse mint from the all-purpose dispenser just above the sink and wash out my mouth. After that, I look at myself in the mirror. The boy in front of me doesn't even _look_ like anyone I've seen. But that person is _me_. Have I really been wearing that haunted expression? Do my eyes look that dead?

I could use a double dose of SPX right now. Hell, a _triple_ dose. It'd be hilarious to see my pupils dilate weirdly so one's small and one's big, and forget about anything except how magic it feels when someone touches you when you're on it. Even just a brush of someone's skin against you can feel like a cosmic connection.

There's not going to be any parties for a while yet, though, so I'd better just suck it up and deal. But I'll be talking to Arcturus soon enough.

I rinse my face one more time, then wipe my face and hands dry with a towel.

I leave the bathroom, surprised that Jo has been standing there all this time.

She looks upset, and I reach out, gently rubbing her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She laughs bitterly. "I should be asking _you_ that. I just wish I could help you through all this."

Perplexed, I reach out to hug Jo, relaxing as I smell the shampoo that she used in her hair this morning as she wraps her arms around me.

She must have felt me relax, because she moves her head off my shoulder to look at me. I smile and say, "See? You helped. Thanks for the hug."

We disengage from each other and walk slowly down the hallway toward the kitchen. I look around at Jo's parents' house as though I'm seeing it for the first time. The floor is polished wood. The walls are a subdued beige color.

My back is to the front door and foyer. The hall itself is a good two meters wide, and opens into the television room on the left, and further down the corridor is the kitchen and dining area. On my right, there are the stairs that go up to Jo's room as well as the guest room, which are right next to the other flight of stairs that go down to the garage as well as Jo's parents' bedroom.

Mom's – my – apartment is more sterile, with white walls and white carpeting.

The atmosphere's different, too; it's because I'm seeing a family that actually makes an effort to stay connected and together. I wish I could be a complete part of this family, but I think a part of me would always know it won't quite be the same.

We enter the kitchen/dining area, and I take my place at the table. Mr. Dacius says, "You feeling all right? We'll save your food for later."

I reply, "I think I can handle it. Thanks for asking, though."

We each get a bowl of thin vegetable soup, and my attention is almost completely on the food.

I'm only half-listening to discussions about black markets and food and all the rest as I slowly eat the soup. I'm being particularly careful since my stomach might give me trouble again.

After I finish the last spoonful, I say, "Thank you for the food. I don't know how to repay you—"

Mrs. Dacius says, "Don't worry about it. We promised…" she trails off, realizing she's about to step on a raw nerve with me. I steel myself and say, "Go on."

"Well, we did promise your mother we'd look after you."

I nod. Purposely changing the subject, I say, "When does school start? We can't be stuck forever like this, can we?"

Mr. Dacius says, "We'll have to keep watching the news. Things may not get better any time soon. Food supplies are still disrupted and Districts are understandably not too keen on sending us more than the bare minimum to keep people alive. I've also found out the banking system has been seriously disrupted as the financial computers were destroyed in an attack. They're having to locate backups and in the meantime the government is printing money and stamping coins."

"But…" I stammer, "how are we going to get money at all? I mean, people need food and stuff, don't they?"

Mrs. Dacius says, "I'm not sure. If they're printing money for us to spend we have to get it somehow but there's been no announcement yet as to how that'll work."

The way we usually spend money is by attaching our bank accounts to our universal ID cards; you can also add lines of credit to your account as well, if you can prove you can repay the money – but the definition of "prove" is pretty elastic. Jo once told me the story of her cousin who spent so much money he couldn't get out of debt, and he mysteriously disappeared. She thinks he became a Peacekeeper, but then again, some of the people he owed money to weren't the usual banker types.

I don't think I've ever spent actual money, like paper or coins. We're taught that the Districts use more primitive forms of money, though, so I guess they won't have any problems. They can just keep coining money as they always have.

Somehow this brings me back to thinking about my own future and I say, "Mr. and Mrs. Dacius?"

They both smile at me warmly. Mrs. Dacius says, "Asedio, you've known us long enough." Her smile fades a little as she says, "As far as I'm concerned, you're a man now. And men call other adults by their first names. Call me Clara."

Mr. Dacius says, "Call me Titus."

"I'll try. Um, anyway, I need to figure things out. I've got to—"

Actually, what in Panem _do_ I need to do? There's no school textbook for this kind of thing, obviously.

Titus says, "We can tackle that tomorrow. You've … well, it hasn't been an easy day, has it, Ace?"

I mumble, "No," as I cast my gaze down onto the polished black table. I can see a dim reflection of my face in the table. I'm reminded of how a haunted boy looked back at me in the bathroom mirror.

Jo butts in, saying, "You think you're up to killing a couple of hours watching _Drew and Terry_?"

I chuckle, reminiscing. They're these funny animated animals – Drew's the dog and Terry's the cat – who get into the wackiest possible situations and have to try and get out of them, usually in the most humorous way possible. I loved watching that when I was younger.

Ah, hell, why not? Watching recordings of the show's a good way to turn my mind off without sleeping for hours and hours.

I stand and say, "You mind if we—?" I gesture to the other room.

Titus and Clara smile briefly and shake their heads.

I leave the dining room with Jo, and pretty soon in the television room we're cuddled together on the chair, laughing our heads off as the blue animated cat tries to enact his evil plan to get the green dog in trouble.

For a few hours, my girlfriend and I will have some happiness and peace. I can't ask for more right now.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :) I forgot to mention that the character of Jo's grandmother was inspired by reading the fic **Rebellious Espionage** by **xiluvrock145**. The character is not in any way connected to that story, however.

To Readers: If you have anything - good or bad - to say about this fic please let me know. Concrit is always appreciated :)


	7. Chapter 7

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Jovanna Dacius**

Seeing Ace smile and laugh for a few hours has lifted my mood. It was wonderful seeing his eyes glistening in laughter instead of sorrow. But now it's bedtime, and so with a light heart, I grab his hand and take him up to the guest bedroom. At the door, he kisses me on the forehead and says, "Thanks. I appreciated what you did for me tonight." His mood's still fairly upbeat, but less so than a few minutes ago.

I joke, "Someone's got to keep you afloat, big guy."

His eyebrows wiggle as he says, "Big, huh?"

I can barely restrain my laughter at the innuendo. I smack his chest lightly, saying, "Shut _up,_ you perv! As if I needed to prove it to myself one more time, anyway."

In mock-surrender, Ace backs up and moves to open the door to the guest room. He says, "G'night, Jo."

"Look, let me know if you're having trouble, okay? Your internal clock is probably all screwed up," I say as I touch his arm briefly.

Ace nods and goes into his room.

After I get ready for bed, I spend a long time staring at my ceiling, wondering if my boyfriend will be okay when he wakes up.

/\/\/\

The next morning, groggy from a fitful sleep, I eat one of the two greenish-red apples Mom set out, and flip on the television. My stomach immediately feels like a lead brick has settled inside it.

The words "_Trial of Muttation Designer_" are at the bottom of the screen, and I can see the back of my head in the audience, along with everybody else in that blasted courtroom. I know exactly what's going to happen…

That damn prosecutor's just started reeling off the list of evidence photos of the muttations Mrs. Avalon made. I put my head in my hands and swear fluently, my teeth gritted as I wonder how to break this to Ace.

The news reporter is back on, announcing breathlessly, "And there you have it, viewers in Panem! The woman, Mrs. Elena Avalon, who directed the creation of these strange and horrible creatures was executed yesterday without ceremony. Other trials involving—"

That does it. I rush back to the television, shutting it off with an angry stab at the button, muttering, "Shit. Shit. _Shit!_ Why did they have to do this, damn it?"

My back is turned to the entrance, so Ace's voice startles me. "Why what?"

As I turn around and open my mouth, I blurt, "Um, nothing."

Ace is frowning. He stands a couple feet away from me, and says, "For 'nothing', you seem like you got pretty worked up about it."

I stall for a little more time. "Let's sit down, okay?"

Ace sits down on the couch, and I purposely sit on his lap to keep him from doing anything rash. I lean against the armrest, looking up into his face. I hate what I'm going to do next.

His eyes are showing the strain of a sleepless night, spent tossing and turning. He'll feel worse in a few moments.

"Your mother's trial was broadcasted all over Panem."

His jaw sets. He growls, "_Fuck_."

I whisper, "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you."

Ace shrugs. But there's definitely something about the look in his eyes that tells me if he had that prosecutor in front of him, things would be pretty bad.

I wish I could distract him, somehow. I say, "Do you want to try and find Arcturus? I know it's been kind of hectic, but…"

His reply is a monotone, "Sure, why not?"

Maybe I need Arcturus's help for more than just evening the odds against the people Ace is going to see at school.

And I'm starting to feel a bit like joining Ace in strangling that prosecutor.

/\/\/\

**Asedio Avalon**

"Well? You gonna call him?" I ask flatly.

Jo's a little puzzled, but gets off me and puts the videophone call through, setting the television to two-way calling mode.

It turns out Arcturus is at home, and he's looking pretty frazzled. "Hey, you guys, How's it going? It's _crazy_ over here. Peacekeepers've been trying to seize this place, saying they need it for quartering new officers. Dad's been down at the new government, trying to convince them to use someplace else."

Arcturus's dad is pretty loaded; before the war, he held the distribution contract for all jewelry and other precious gems coming out of District One, so if you wanted them moved from there to the Capitol, you had to talk to his dad. So, of course, his dad bought a fancy house and had the door adorned with rubies and sapphires.

I say, "It's not so great over here. You see the news?"

His eyes widen. "Oh, _shit_, Ace, that trial… dude. I'm really sorry. It was all over and, um…"

I brush that off, saying, "Yeah. It sucks."

He must have seen something in my expression, because he changes the subject in a hurry. "Uh, hey. D'you guys want to meet or something? I can get out of here as soon as Dad and Mom come back so someone's on the property. The news people said to bring your universal ID to the bank and you can get some money."

I look at Jo, who says, "I need to make sure my parents are okay with us leaving here."

Arcturus brushes his hair out of his eyes. I notice his hair's gotten a bit longer since we last saw each other about three or four weeks ago, just before school was closed indefinitely. His hair's losing the rainbow shades I saw him sporting before, though his eyes are still that strange grayish-white color that can make you think he's a robot. He likes to get his eyes changed every year or so.

He says, "Okay, cool. Listen, I've had trouble with videophone calls. If they don't work the next time when you try calling me back, just send me a message somehow – text, mobile voice mail, whatever."

I nod, and we both say, "Bye." The screen goes blank as she shuts off the television.

I sigh and say, "Well, that's it. Can we talk to your parents? I can't stay here forever."

Wryly, Jo says, "You mean in this room or in the house?"

"Well, I meant the house, but I do feel kind of cooped up." I run my hand through my hair, trying not to think about my mom.

Jo mentions there's an apple for me at the dining table, so I go and grab it, then we go to her father's – Titus's – den. He's looking intently at his personal videophone screen set on his desk, and sitting in a chair beside him is Jo's mom – Clara. It feels strange to think of them by their names.

Titus is saying, "We need to find out if the old probate laws are still in force. The boy is innocent of anything, and his mother's will was written well before the war. Can you push the legal releases through, Marcus?"

An unfamiliar voice speaks. "I've no idea about probate. I've been trying to run a hastily reconstructed prison and judicial system all in one, so I _am_ kind of swamped here. If you ask me, I think the government's probably rubber-stamping all the penny-ante stuff. Hell, there's got to be hundreds, if not thousands of dead people between the war and these trials going on.

"But I have no problem certifying that no charges are outstanding against Asedio Avalon, and that there's no warrant for his arrest, as I checked for all this way back when you asked me for his waiver. But you're going to have to take that and go to the provisional government to get the property transfer recorded and it's likely going to be a complete madhouse because the banking system is a key part of it. Look, I can't talk much longer. I have to sign a lot of death certificates today."

Marcus's voice gets low and confidential. "I've heard they're going to execute Snow any day now. If you thought Mrs. Avalon's trial was a complete farce, it'll be a positive model of fairness compared to how fast they'll throw the book at him."

_Damn_. Jo looks at me, her eyes wide. I murmur in her ear, "Think they'll show that one on the news?"

She nods.

Titus sits back in his chair and looks thoughtful as Clara says, "Will Asedio need his mother's death certificate for probate?"

I wince as my stomach clenches, prompting Jo to take my hand and give it a supportive squeeze. In my other hand is the apple. I nervously nibble it a bit.

Marcus's reply is slow and thoughtful. "It's probably a good idea. I'll forward all the relevant documentation by secure electronic mail. Only his biometrics can unlock them without an override by someone in the government. Do you have an eye scanner, or a reader for his ID card?"

Titus curtly says, "We have both."

"Right. Watch for them to arrive. Got to sign off, now."

Titus pushes a button on his desk, then looks up at us. "I'm sorry you two had to hear that. Have you heard anything about what's going on?"

Jo says, "They showed Ace's mom's trial on the news. Also, we heard from his friend Arcturus." She lets go of my hand.

I swallow the bite of apple I've just taken, saying, "The Peacekeepers want his dad's house for some reason. We also found out we can go to a bank with ID cards to get money. Um, could we—?"

Titus and Clara nod. It's only midmorning, so there should be zero problem with the curfew. We're all dressed except for Jo, who goes to get herself ready for the day.

Clara says to me, "Have you thought about going back home to collect anything you might need?"

_To go back home now?_

On the one hand, it's where I've lived all my life.

But on the other hand, Mom's stuff is all still there.

Still, it's just an apartment, not a big mansion like Arcturus's. What Peacekeeper would want my place?

I shake my head. "I'd rather not."

I fiddle with the half-eaten apple in my hands for a bit, then take a bite. Titus looks like he wants to say something, then stops as Clara shakes her head.

As long as I'm eating, I have something to do. And I don't have to try and talk, because I'm not sure what I could say. I mean, before the war it wasn't too hard to keep it on a superficial level: "Hi, how are you? I'm here to meet Jo before we go take in a vid at the 3D theater," or whatever.

But now, they're becoming a big part of my life. All my relatives are dead or very distant. I might possibly have an uncle-of-sorts on my Dad's side, but if Jo's cousin could mysteriously disappear due to gambling debts, it's likely my uncle, if I had one, has probably been "missing" for years too.

It's still a bit of a surprise to know Dad was this political mover and shaker who fell afoul of ex-President Snow. I wonder if I should feel upset about that, too, because it's another lie, albeit a lie of omission. But at the same time, he died six years ago. It's… well, it's not the same. Not like finding out Mom was completely different than who I thought she was.

I shift in my chair and try leave that train of thought alone. I go back to my apple, slowly nibbling at it to make it last longer.

Jo's re-entry kicks me out of my brown study, and I stand up, tossing the apple core into the trash disintegrator in the corner of the room. The nearest bank branch is not far from the residential blocks we're in, so we'll walk this time; we proceed to the front door.

As I step out the front door into the bright sunlight, my thoughts rest on happier times, when a clear blue sky meant some fun hovercraft racing and a party afterwards.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :) And concrit from readers is always appreciated. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Asedio Avalon**

The line-up at the bank is astonishingly long. The bank itself is near the beginning of the commercial district which extends northward, culminating in tall spires. I see some holes in the buildings where bombs blasted through walls or shattered the windows.

As soon as we get in line, Jo sends a quick text message to Arcturus, telling him where we are. I remember I left my mobile phone at home.

Looks like I might have to revisit that place sooner rather than later.

I look up again at the blue sky, breathing in the slightly chilly air. It's nice to be outside, even though there are visible reminders of the war in the southern residential area as well. I see robotic cleaning crews alongside humans cleaning up rubble strewn on the streets, and I can see a street repair crew much farther down the road, fixing what appears to be a giant hole next to a collapsed building.

Most of the people in line seem dressed fairly well, as they were at the Ex … the _other_ place. But there's a slightly threadbare look to their coats and clothes, and some don't fit that well. It's a vivid reminder of how the war has finally touched us here in the Capitol, as well as the privations still to come.

We shuffle forward.

A hovercar sedately floats down to ground level, and a familiar-looking person hops out. They wave to the driver, who lifts off and leaves. As the person turns around and takes in the line-up, I see it's Arcturus.

I wave and yell, "Hey, Arcturus! Over here!"

He sees us and dashes up. We get a few scowls from people behind us, and I do a double-take, seeing the line has suddenly expanded half-way down the block already from where we were standing.

Arcturus wraps me in a fierce hug, grinning as he steps back, waving to Titus and Clara. He briefly hugs Jo as well, and says, "Damn! It's good to see you guys. My dad just dropped me off; Mom's back home, so there's someone home. He got somebody-or-other to send orders so the Peacekeepers will find a different headquarters. I think they just wanted to loot the place, personally."

Titus breaks in, saying, "I've heard of problems like that from some other friends of mine. We've been lucky, frankly."

We shuffle forward, drawing Arcturus into the line-up.

Arcturus nods and says, "Yeah, I can kinda figure that."

He puts his arm around my shoulders and says in a low voice, "How ya doing, buddy?"

His strong grip on me is reassuring. I smile briefly and say, "I'm okay for now. But I've been sleeping too much or too little lately. Who knows how it'll be tomorrow?"

Arcturus squeezes my shoulder and releases me. He beckons Jo and me closer to him, a meter away from her parents who are busy talking to each other anyway.

He says quietly, "Listen. I was thinking about rounding up a few of us and having a little get-together later. You know, back to normal?"

Jo's mirthless chuckle surprises him. "Normal, Arcturus Webster? It's _never _going to be normal ever again. At least not the kind of normal we had before the war."

Defensively, he replies, "Well, I _know_ that, damn it. But don't you guys wanna just take your minds off the news and all that?"

He doesn't get it. I say, "Arct, we can't do that anymore. Look around you. Look at _me_. My mother…" A sudden lump in my throat keeps me from finishing that sentence. I hastily finish by saying, "None of us paid attention when we should have! Maybe if we had, we wouldn't have let ourselves be lied to. You know?"

I certainly should; I paid the price for not seeing through the lies. I could have stopped Mom. I _should_ have stopped Mom. A sense of utter failure washes through me as I shuffle forward with the line again.

I tuck my chin in against my chest, staring down at my feet as my thoughts move to Arcturus.

Arcturus is so damn lucky his dad hasn't been arrested yet. Maybe the new government thinks they can get more out of his family by keeping the distribution contract going. Maybe they'll just force him to accept a lower price, or something.

Thinking about him and his family takes my mind off other things, so I keep pondering about him. He's been a good friend for years. I'm almost certain he has a thing for me, but for some reason he's never just gone and said it. Why wouldn't he? It's not like the Capitol's been terribly repressive about stuff like that. He's bisexual, and dances with anyone he likes at clubs.

Shuffle forward again.

Maybe he's worried about making Jovanna jealous. Who the hell knows? Arct's cool, but sometimes he's confusing. Like, he can be sensitive enough to console me in his own way, but the next moment he wants to go back to parties each week or two.

Maybe he's just always been that way and this is the first time I've seen his sensitive side.

We don't say anything to each other after that. Arcturus moves so he's on my left, and Jo's on my right. The air's starting to bite a bit, and I wish my coat was thicker. As we pass by a store with a glass window, I notice all our cheeks are a reddish color. Jo rubs her hands, prompting me to rub my hands as well before I shove them back in my pockets.

After an interminable time, we're in the bank. The electronic funds transfer machines, which line both the left and right walls of the bank, are out of order. A sign posted by the door repeatedly scrolls the same text:

"_Present identification to a person at the counter to receive one thousand New Panem dollars in paper currency. This amount will be debited against your account, verified by your universal ID card, when the bank's computers are restored to working order. _

_**Abuse of money distribution by means of stolen or fraudulent identification will result in confiscation of all money, physical or electronic. Counterfeiting money will result in an automatic one-year jail sentence.**__"_

Puzzled, I ask Titus, "What's this money worth, anyway?"

He shrugs and says, "Use it if you have to, but don't let anyone steal it."

At the counter, there's ten people armed with portable identification recorders. I remember seeing them used at bars and clubs so bouncers could keep track of anyone who was supposed to be banned. These models the bank people are using seem a bit more rugged, and have extra attachments.

When I'm at the counter, the woman says in a monotone, "Present your ID card. After I swipe it through, put your left eye to the reader." She indicates a long cylinder poking out of the machine. Below the cylinder is a display much like the one I saw in the jail.

I hand over the card, and she compares the picture on the card and on the screen against my face, then turns the machine toward me and I put my left eye against the reader. The machine beeps and I see the word "AUTHENTICATED" show up below my name. The woman nods, then says, "Put your left or right thumb in the middle of the square. Biometrics constitute proof that you have accepted the money. No more will be issued to you at this time. Do you understand all this?"

"Yes," I reply. The screen on the machine blanks, then shows just a square. Since I'm right-handed, I put my right thumb in the indicated spot. The machine beeps again, indicating FINGERPRINT RECORDED.

She hands back my card, then slaps a stack of bills in front of me. She gestures impatiently to the person behind me, which is my cue to grab my stuff and go.

Outside the bank, we all regroup across the street. I look at the bills. They're bluish in color, all marked with the number 50 at the corners. The front of the bill I pull out of the stack has fancy printing against a background of the new insignia of Panem which reads FIFTY NEW PANEM DOLLARS.

The fine print running along the bottom of the bill reads "Negotiable for six months or until demonetized by order of the Government of New Panem."

The back of the bill has a repeated sequence of text in varying shades of blue ranging to purple, just FIFTYFIFTYFIFTYFIFTY over and over, covering the entire surface except for a small white boundary near the rectangular edges.

Huh. Well, I've got money. What do I spend it on? No idea. In the old days, when Arcturus picked up SPX for me and Jo, we always just did a funds transfer at the machine like the one in the bank. That's also how my mom filled up my bank account. She'd do the funds transfer then leave the receipt so I'd know.

I guess now the equivalent of that would be to hand Arcturus one of the pieces of paper. It's so _weird_ that these paper things actually represent wealth.

The others in the group with me have finished examining their bills. It looks like Arcturus and Clara got a set of purplish-colored bills numbered as twenty-dollar bills, while Jo and her dad got fifties like me.

I stuff the bills in the inside pocket of my coat, and the others similarly keep their money in a safe place. Arcturus tags along with us as we walk back to Jo's place. He offhandedly says, "There's gotta be, like, a restaurant or something opening up already, right?"

My mouth is watering. "There's a way to spend this funny paper and get some real food, huh?"

Arct's in bliss. "Mmmm. Steak and mushrooms. Man, I could go for that."

Jo says, "Well, what've you been eating until now? We've had dry meat rations and fruits, mostly."

"Dad was smart and stocked up on a _huge_ consignment of canned stuff around the time of the Quarter Quell. We've still got a zillion cans left because we didn't need to start using them until a couple months after the shortages hit."

Titus whistles. "Smart man. Might be another reason why the Peacekeepers wanted your dad's house so badly, Arcturus. They could have found out about food hoarding; we mostly stocked up on fruits because they're healthier than the canned stuff. And yes, Jo and Ace, we have cans too; we're just trying to be very careful about using them."

I say, "So that's where the soup was from?"

Clara nods.

Can't believe I didn't think of that before. Well, things being as they were, I'm not surprised I didn't connect the dots.

The sun's changed position in the sky, reminding me time is moving. I say, "How long before curfew? My phone isn't on me."

Arcturus whips out his phone, checks the time and says, "It's only three o'clock. Sunset's not for a couple of hours yet."

We'll be at Jo's place in a few minutes, so I put the thought out of my mind as we continue walking back, being careful to avoid the cleanup crews.

At the house, Titus invites Arcturus in, and we all gratefully soak in the warmth inside the house after having been outside in the cold for a couple of hours.

Arcturus nudges me and says, "You're staying here for now?"

I nod. "Yeah. Long story. The short of it is Jo was stuck at my apartment when the bombing started. After it stopped, we came here to check on her parents. I've been here since then."

He takes his time taking his shoes off in the entry foyer as the others disperse through the house. He leans in and whispers, "In her bed or out of it?"

I laugh and sock his shoulder. "Asshole. Nah, I've been in their guest room."

Arcturus grins at me. We go and find Jo to see what she wants to do. We need to kill time and I'd rather not have the chance to let my thoughts linger on … things.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :) And concrit from readers is always appreciated. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 9

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

_Warning: There is some slash in this chapter, including brief mentions of sex._

* * *

**Jovanna Dacius**

Arcturus, Ace, and I killed few hours watching more _Drew and Terry_ shows after we got back, and Mom and Dad let him sleep over on the couch.

The day after Arcturus met with us, he invited us to visit him at his place, now that his parents have managed to hang onto it and secure it. Then he went back home.

Over the next few days, while Mom and Dad used their money to start bringing in supplies we need, Ace and I were kept busy when not sleeping.

One day, Dad declares a break from laying away power cell replacements for the backup generator and we all find a little café that's reopened just down the road from the bank. It's crowded, but we manage to grab a table and eat thick beef and vegetable soup along with delicious buns that don't taste synthetic. It's wonderful.

It's so much like it was before the war, when Mom and Dad would take me out for a special dinner, and we start reminiscing. There's a great steak house called Reinhold's, and Dad's re-telling the story about how I was so nervous I accidentally bit the thin plastic wine glass I'd been given and it spilled all over my hand.

Ace smiles, but it's strained. I wonder if the stress of being around other people is getting to him.

His smile seems to become more artificial as the meal wears on, with Mom and Dad sharing stories about past family dinners at restaurants.

Ace has been sleeping at weird hours lately, and I've heard him go to get water from the kitchen, then pad around downstairs. I've seen him sitting in the living room at the chair by the window, staring outside. Not that there's much to see because of the bushes, but I think he likes watching the sun rise.

The day Ace and I are supposed to go to Arcturus's party, everything goes down the tubes.

I'm just exiting my room when I see Ace trudging back upstairs. He looks somewhat ragged, but lifts his hand when he sees me. I pull him into my room and say, "How are you holding up?"

He grimaces and half-shrugs. "It comes and goes, you know? One minute it'll be fine and then the next I'm plunged into this spiral of wondering if I could have made a difference with Mom."

"Do you want to talk about it more?" I take his hand and briefly kiss his fingers.

He sighs. "I dunno. I'm honestly worried I'm going to do something completely stupid when I get… you know, her remains."

"We'll be there for you. I promise, Ace."

A bitter expression crosses his face.

I continue, saying, "Mom and Dad worry about you, you know."

He yanks his hand out of mine and scowls. "Oh, _Mom and Dad_," he mockingly parrots.

This is the first time I've ever seen raw, pained anger from Ace. "You know something, Jovanna Dacius? You've still _got_ your parents."

Abruptly taken aback, I frown. "Would you tell me what brought this on? Huh?"

He spits resentfully, "Oh, come off it. What about at the restaurant, huh? You can tell each other stories about what you did once upon a time and it's real, not some made-up story. I had to sit there watching you and your parents carry on about all your fun occasions! I notice I didn't exactly figure in any of those stories and oh, wait, I know why. I can't tell stories about a dead mother I barely knew!"

I put my hands on my hips and bark, "Asedio, that's not fair! You can't just throw my family in my face like that." I point at him, emphasizing my next sentence. "Look at you. Wallowing in your own grief and now you're taking it out on me!"

His face has gone red, and he's visibly struggling to control himself. In a low, barely controlled voice, he says, "I have lost my mother with no chance of ever being able to come to terms with how I feel, and what I do _not_ need is to be in the same house with someone who's bossing me about my mother."

In disbelief, I gasp. "Bossing you? _Bossing you?_ Listen to yourself. You're not making sense!"

He snarls, "So that's it, huh? I'm crazy? You know what? _Fuck_ you."

Anger shoots through me like a flame. As though someone else is controlling my hand, I watch it come up and slap him hard on the face, leaving a red mark.

Through gritted teeth I say, "You won't be doing any fucking me for a while, because I want you to _get out_. NOW!"

I open my door angrily, pointing into the hallway. Mutinously, Ace stalks out of the room, rubbing his cheek where I struck him.

After I close my door, I throw myself on my bed, wondering if this is the end for my relationship with Ace. I stare at my hand, realizing it's the first time I've ever hit him.

Arcturus's party is tonight. But I'm not going to go, because Ace will be there.

My boyfriend is a complete _jackass_.

/\/\/\

**Asedio Avalon**

I can't believe this. Jo's just told me to leave. Well, I'll leave, all right.

In the guest room, I furiously strip the bed, then toss all the clothes I've been using onto the bed; I'm wearing the outfit I had on when I came to Jo's house.

Back in the hall, I stop at Jo's door and say through gritted teeth, "I'm gone. Seeya."

I barely notice the chill in the air as I stalk back to my apartment, glaring at anyone who wants to know what's wrong.

As I enter the door, my anger evaporates, leaving me with a sense of bone-weariness. It's exactly as we left it a week or more ago. I sigh and let my coat fall to the floor and kick my shoes off into a corner.

Maybe some routine housecleaning will take my mind off this utter mess I've landed into with Jo.

I go into my bedroom and haphazardly begin picking up the bedsheets and old clothes, tossing them all into the laundry unit. Having done this many a time when Mom wouldn't be home until late, I select the 'ADD SOAP' setting, then 'WASH'. I think it's still loaded with soap, anyway.

I inventory my own food stocks and look in the freezer, which is now running off main power. I whistle. No wonder Mom didn't want me to open it. There's at least a month's worth of some high-quality frozen meals you can instantly prepare and eat.

Well, Cuisinator time. Result: one meal of ham and mashed potatoes.

After sitting at the table and staring at the food, I realize glumly that I'm not actually all that hungry. My thoughts keep drifting back to my fight with Jo.

That was the first time she'd ever hit me in anger. It's still a shock, remembering her hand coming up and the _crack_ as she slapped me. Damn it, I was such an _asshole_ to her.

I've spent several days just _existing_. As soon as Titus and Clara had money they started roping me and Jo into being the grunt-workers, relocating boxes of stuff from the hovercar when Titus or Clara would go into town. They met with people and spent a lot more than they needed to get decent food stockpiles, along with some other supplies; we were actually running dangerously low on simple basics like toilet paper and what-have-you.

The one time we went to the café wasn't fun. I still don't know why I resented it so much, hearing Jo's family yack about old times. But it just… they reminded me of what I've lost.

What I've never really had.

It didn't help that I started sleeping at, like, twelve noon to twelve midnight, or other weird hours like that. Jo's parents seemed to be cool with that, since they would just put me to work when they would see me awake.

And now I'm going to be living in my old apartment. That damned closed door which opens into Mom's bedroom makes me wince every time I look at it. I know I should go in there and start cleaning it out, but I just… can't.

I let the fork clatter to the table and put my head in my hands as I close my eyes and try to find some resolve within me to not just completely give up.

I lift my head and mechanically, I scarf down the mashed potatoes, then eat some of the ham.

The beep of the washing unit reminds me to move the washed clothes and bedsheets to the drying unit. I toss the remains of my meal into the Disinto in the kitchen, then go have another shower. Once I'm out, I dress in clean clothes that are more like what I'd wear in school.

I find my mobile phone and check the time. It's four o'clock, so I'd better get going. Jo's just gonna have to go to Arct's party without me. If she _does _show up, it'll be damn awkward, but I guess I can hide out somewhere in his house and just zonk myself into oblivion with the stuff he's going to likely have.

Luckily, I can get a call through to Arcturus and I manage to get in the right direction. I'm at his house just before sundown. I signal for entrance at the call box in front of the gate; Arct's face shows on the visiplate and he grins, signalling that I can come in.

The front door has multicolored rubies and sapphires on the door frame and even has a few arranged in a line down the center of the door itself. Arcturus swings it open with a flourish and frowns when he doesn't see Jo.

"Hey. Your girlfriend coming or what?"

I grimace. "We had a big fight. I don't wanna talk about it."

Arcturus grasps my shoulder. "That sucks, man. Well, come on downstairs. You're the last one to show up."

The entry foyer is _huge_. It, like the rest of this mansion, is outsized by comparison to my apartment, or even Jo's house. I've been here maybe once before. Arcturus liked to take off straight from school and grab a bite somewhere, then hit up a club. I think he liked just being anywhere but home for the variety. He'd be the first to hear about a new bar opening, like this one called 'London Underground' which was supposedly based on some old city, and it was _literally_ underground.

I kick my shoes off and shrug out of my coat. Remembering the money, I say, "Hey, am I supposed to give any of this to you?"

With a careless gesture, Arcturus says, "Ah, just gimme one of those with the fifty on it."

I pluck off one fifty dollar bill and give it to him. He says, "Leave the rest in your coat but don't tell anyone where it is."

I hang my coat up in a closet apparently reserved for visitors. I remark, "Where're your parents?"

He shrugs. "In their room, I guess. Downstairs is almost totally soundproof."

I follow him through the wide corridors, stopping at a door. He opens it and we head down a flight of stairs. The lights are dim, and I can hear some music playing.

The music gets louder as I step into a large comfortable living room with couches along the walls, as well as two couches set opposite each other about four meters apart, which creates a small central area.

There's about ten of us, total; it looks like we're about evenly split between guys and girls. Arcturus waves for silence, snapping his fingers in a particular way. The music shuts off, and I realize he must have some kind of hand-signal programming in his room. Impressive.

Some of the people are giving me dirty looks, and Arct catches them, scowling menacingly. "Okay, I don't know what your problem is, but Ace here's my friend. Any of you have a problem with that, get out now. This is my house and my rules."

His challenging gaze locks with theirs and he wins the staring contest.

He says, "Good, that's settled."

Arcturus looks unaccountably serious. I wonder what could be wrong.

"Guys, girls, I want to stop and say that there are several of us who couldn't make it. Not because they're too busy, not because their videophone didn't work, but because…

"Because they're dead." Arcturus's expression remains somber as he continues. "I know it may seem weird coming from me, but I got to know you all, you know? But guys like Leander Drayson and Ramius Jackson and girls like Yvette Flutterby and Destiny Sherwood… they're not gonna be here anymore. Not gonna join us at the clubs or at school. They won't go shopping with us anymore, or meet at a café for a snack."

We all lower our heads; I didn't know them that well, but the names do strike a chord of familiarity.

Arcturus's voice gets firmer as he wraps up. "But tonight, I want us to remember some good times, okay? So I'm gonna put the music back on, and get us something to help out."

Arcturus raises his hand to snap his fingers a particular way, and the AVP player comes back on, producing psychedelic patterns on the large television at the end of one wall in time with the pulse of the beat.

Before I'm even sure he's been gone and come back, Arct's back with lots of pills. We're all wondering how the hell he got his hands on some, considering the war and all, and he just smirks and nods self-importantly, doling them out as he pleases.

I'm last. He takes a strip of about five or six SPX pills, comes up to me, and slaps them against my chest. "Enjoy yourself, Ace," he says. As I take the pills out of his hand, He leaves his hand on my chest. I'm not sure what to make of that. I say, "Hey, thanks. But what's that for?" I jokingly point to his hand, figuring he just forgot.

Abruptly, Arcturus seems to realize his minor faux pas and removes his hand, blushing. He says, "Um, I sorta gotta tell you something."

I pull him close and say into his ear so he can hear, "What? You like me or something?"

He licks his lips nervously. "You guessed? How'd you—I never told _anyone_, dude!"

I snort. "It's kind of obvious when you stare at your friend in a District Victor outfit, you know."

He puts his hand to his forehead. "Oh, man. That night at Icicle." He looks around and pulls me down to a couch against the far wall opposite the television. He swallows nervously and says, "It feels really weird saying this, but you were fucking _hot_."

I smirk and swallow two pills at once.

Arct grabs two of his own and swallows – or tries to. He has to go and get a cup of water to wash them down, and offers it to me. I drink some water as well, then hand it back. SPX has a tendency to dehydrate you, so a little extra water never hurt.

The music washes over me as I close my eyes, letting the pounding beat reverberate through my body. After a few moments, I feel Arcturus's shoulder next to mine, and as I look at him he's blushing. I lean over and say into his ear, "Look, it's cool, okay? If I wasn't upset before about knowing you have a thing for me why would I be upset now?"

He looks down at his hand tapping his leg in time with the beat, then leans in and says, "But you're with Jo, and I can't come between you guys like that. You know that, right?"

His unwelcome reminder of how I hurt my girlfriend makes my stomach clench. Tonight I just want to _forget_. Forget my mother's execution, forget being a jerk earlier this morning.

Arct liking me is pretty minor, by comparison.

I say, "Wanna dance?"

I've never danced with a guy before. But what the hell, it's a crazy world now.

Arcturus looks at me, his eyes wide. "You're fucking with me," he says.

"Am _not_. Come on. I want to dance, and you're here."

He's shaking his head, clearly thinking I've gone a bit bonkers. But we move into the center of the room and after a few awkward moments, we're fluidly moving and twisting to the bassy beat of "Cold like Ice".

I can see why he's so attractive. His moves are smoothly put together that make him look like a trained dancer who's spent years in school. But he's just a natural at it, and this is the first time I've been his dance partner.

The SPX is starting to kick in; my eyes are starting to focus wrong, and the light is too bright on my left and a bit darker than it should be on the right. I pull Arcturus closer to me, feeling the amazing texture of his shirt and the muscles of his lower arm. He has the same idea, because he wraps one arm around me, his hand flat against the small of my back as we sway together to the music. I put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself against him.

His eyes are also slowly changing in pupil size as his brain struggles to process the effect of SPX. His left eye's pupil almost the size of his iris, and his right eye's pupil is more normal.

Nobody's sure exactly why it messes up vision, but it makes for some damn cool visual effects. Arcturus's face is half-light, half-shadow now, and I can feel our torsos nearly touching. His thumb's rubbing small circles against my back and I'm in heaven. I move my hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, and the warmth of his skin is _unbelievable_. Even Jo wasn't this warm when we made out while tripping out on this stuff.

My touch causes Arcturus to briefly stutter as he dances, closing his eyes briefly to luxuriate in it. He adjusts and grins widely at me as the beat changes to an even faster one, our bodies responding to it by dancing faster as well. We're all but grinding against each other now.

I've no idea how long we've been doing this. Sweat's starting to drip off Arcturus's forehead, and I'm breathing heavily as well.

The next song is a slow one, and I see that the rest of the group has broken up into couples as well and everybody's been dancing since we started. We decide to move out of the dance area between the two couches in the center of the room and hit the bathroom. The sudden bright light hurts, and everything goes out of focus for a bit as my eyes struggle to adjust.

Inside, with the door closed, we each drink a large amount of water. My eyes find it easier to stay on Arcturus's face.

We towel each other's faces; it's an excuse to touch each other, and I swear, every time he touches me now it's like a switch gets flicked inside me that makes my heart beat faster. Recklessly, I swallow another pill and shove the remainder back in my pants pocket.

Arcturus hesitates, then shrugs and pops another one himself.

Suddenly, the urge seems irresistible now. I say, "Kiss me."

Arcturus's jaw drops. "Dude. Whoa, hold on. I… are you _sure?_" His hand starts to shake as he pushes his hair back.

I scowl. "'Course I'm fucking sure. Kiss me, I wanna know what it's like."

"Just… it's only 'cause you asked, okay?"

He pulls me to him, holding my shoulders. As soon as our lips touch, it's like fireworks exploding in my brain. They're so warm and the way he kisses has a strength to it Jo doesn't quite have. I'm eagerly kissing Arcturus, wanting these new sensations to keep flooding my mind.

Holding a guy while kissing him is weird, but it's a _major_ turn-on. No wonder Arcturus likes guys if they're all like this when you make out with them.

Arct's hands are on my chest and they're about to make their way downwards when a bang on the bathroom door startles us.

He mutters, "Damn it," and opens the door. A girl is standing there, weaving slightly. She snickers and says, "Sucking face, or sucking something else in here, huh?"

I growl, "Shut up," and follow Arcturus back into the room. There's still mostly dancing going on, but I can see a couple of people making out on a couch.

My coordination's also starting to go off a bit, and I grab Arct's arm to hold myself steady. He smiles at me and brushes his hand through my hair, sending a million tingles down my spine. His hand resting on my cheek makes me feel like we're _connected_ so closely. He kisses me briefly and says into my ear, "Wanna make out?"

_Fuck_ yes I want to make out with him. I point at a couch, and we collapse into it, mouths locking in a kiss, Arct's hand under my shirt and my hands on his hips. I'm underneath him, feeling him rub against me. Our legs are intertwined, and my mind gives in to the feeling of wonder and amazement at the incredible sensation of warm hands touching and caressing my skin.

My sensations become increasingly fragmented after that.

My shirt's off, and he's kissing and licking my neck—

His shirt's off, and our torsos and chests rub together as he grinds against me—

Somehow, we've moved to his bed, and I'm naked, watching Arcturus take his pants off—

His mouth is working wonders and my eyes are closed; I'm _feeling_ every moment of it—

He's on top of me, and all I can think is _more, more please_—

/\/\/\

I wake up, extremely groggy and disoriented. My head hurts a bit. My body aches as well.

_Where the hell am I and what the hell did I _do?

There's only a small lamp that's on in this windowless room. I've still got no idea until I sit up and notice I'm naked in bed next to Arcturus, startling me so badly I lay back down on the bed, trying to control my breathing.

_What the fuck happened?_

I get flashes of things – Arcturus's mouth on mine, our dancing, moving to his bed…

The tendency for memories to fragment as a dose of SPX goes up is pretty well-known, and I must have popped a few last night. But as I think back, it's oh-so-damn-obvious: I've cheated on Jo with Arcturus.

_Shit_.

The guilt takes away most of the awe I feel at the pleasurable things I did with Arcturus. Everything's tainted now because I know Jo's going to be absolutely furious with me over this. As if I haven't already completely messed it up by being a resentful asshole to her.

I grab my pillow and punch it.

The ache in my bottom reminds me that Arcturus and I went all the way, which … I'm not sure what to think. On the one hand, it doesn't disgust me, but on the other, I feel like I was pretty damn irresponsible.

I sigh. It's gonna be an uncomfortable time with Arcturus as we try to work this shit out between us. Damn it, it's not fair to him. One night under heavy influence doesn't mean the same thing as a long-term relationship.

I give up.

I root around for my clothes and then try to find his shower. As it turns out, he's got his own personal bathroom as well as the communal one in the television area. The hot water and the luxurious shampoos and soaps make me feel more alive and awake, and I actually feel mostly human when I get back into my outfit from the day before.

Arcturus is awake when I go back out, and he smirks at me. "Hey, Ace, you're walking funny today."

I snort. "Dude. Do you not remember what happened last night?"

He flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his brow furrowed. I can almost see the circuits humming away in his brain.

He sits up, startled. "Holy fucking _shit!_"

Fear crosses his face. "Oh man, Ace, I didn't force you into anything, did I?"

I briskly walk to his side of the bed and sit near him, thwapping his knee. "Shut up. No, you didn't! I don't know why I did, but I'm pretty clear on _wanting_ you to fuck me."

Arcturus's face shows his emotional conflict. "Look, Ace, I… damn it, how could I let myself get so carried away like that? That was so incredibly _stupid_ of me. I know you're not into me like that." He looks away. "But I kind of wish you were."

I stare at the wall and say, "How can something so fun get so complicated?" I rub my eyes and look at him again. "Look, I've managed to screw this all up. I crossed a line I shouldn't have crossed with you, because I'm not into guys like you are, and because I've cheated on Jo. With you."

Arcturus slaps the pillow on top of his face and groans into it.

He lifts the pillow slowly and looks at me. I'm not sure what the expression is on his face, exactly, but it's not hatred.

"Damn it. Last night – what I remember – was like my fantasy come true. I guess this is my lesson that even fantasies have their dark sides." His nostrils flare as he breathes. "Maybe you should take off, okay? If we keep hanging around today it's gonna get weird. I need some time, y'know?"

I nod. "Yeah. I agree. I better go away and think about it myself, too."

Arcturus blushes as he says, "Um, just tell me one thing?"

I stand up and say, "Yeah?"

"Was it the most mind-blowing sex you've ever had?"

I laugh nervously and turn it back on him. "You first."

"Okay, yeah. Yeah, it was. So thanks for that, anyway."

I know it's not totally honest, but it's the truth as I'll admit it to myself and him. "And Arct? It wasn't quite the _most_, but it sure blew my mind."

I rush out of his room and check my phone. It's just past noon, now. I grab my coat upstairs, checking that the money is still there. With that, I leave Arcturus's house, wondering how I'll face the two people I know best in this world.

Life sure is awkward sometimes.

* * *

Author Notes: Well, there you have it. Can it get any worse? Wait and see. Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :)

Also: The concept of the AVP Player is from **Silver Tongued Wonder**, and the club "Icicle" is used with permission from **grand admiral chelli**.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Asedio Avalon**

A cursory e-mail is all I get as far as notification that after some delay, my mother's ashes are available.

Another cursory e-mail from Jo's dad says that if I supply the right biometrics, all information needed to prove I can legally inherit is in the forwarded message. There's a recorded audiovisual message to go with it, but I don't really want to know if he knows Jo and I had a fight.

Mostly I've been trying to sleep, when I can't watch the excited news reporters. They're so excited because they can go anywhere and talk about anything, especially if it makes the old government look bad.

The same day they reported that school's starting again in a few days, they televised Snow's execution.

But before that—

I don't know how I've missed seeing this before, but what happened at the City Circle shocks me to my core.

There's an overhead view of the concrete barrier enclosing the confused people – mostly children, then a shaky ground-level view as rebel troops swarm over the Peacekeepers and Capitol troops, causing confused yelling and shouting as shots ring out. There's a girl standing atop the base of a flagpole, a lone stationary figure amidst the milling crowds.

I'm galvanized by recognition that it's Katniss Everdeen – the Mockingjay.

Then a hovercraft moves into view of the camera, and I can see parachutes flying everywhere before it rises back up. A foreboding feeling passes through me—_BLAM!_

I frantically look around to see if a building got bombed, then I realize in my panic that the sounds were from the television. There are dead bodies – white-coated medical people – more panicky people on-screen. The Mockingjay's yelling someone's name and trying to get through the crowd—

The roar of the second set of explosives makes me flinch back in my seat, instinctively covering my head. I'm breathing shallowly in fear, just like I was when the Peacekeeper caught me and Jo out at curfew. My eyes are squeezed shut.

I lower my head into my trembling hands as I hear the reporter's voice come back: "The person televising this event was knocked over by the force of the blast and no more recorded material remains of this horrific killing of innocent children, yet another example of President Snow's cruelty even as the war was lost for the Capitol. His trial, which was aired yesterday, included this in a long list of crimes in the indictment against him. He is scheduled to be executed today."

As I hear the word 'executed', I'm thinking, _get a grip, just relax, the war's over, Ace… I wish my mother was here to hug me like she used to when I was a kid_

_butshe's__dead__…! Fuck. Dead dead dead **dead**.  
_

Everything from the television goes in one ear and out the other as I lie down on the couch curled into a ball trying to calm down, willing my heart to settle down and for my breathing to steady out.

More than anything else right now, I wish my mom was here.

/\/\/\

I don't know how long it is before I hear an excited roaring from the television. Shakily, I sit back up and see that it's an overhead view of the City Circle. People are cheering and bellowing. I hear one person yell something about President Snow and where he can put his head, and I chuckle darkly. _At least they'll get rid of him too, _I think maliciously.

The reporter's voiceover registers in my ears as I hear him say, "… the official notification to all of Panem that former President Snow's execution is to take place outside his mansion. We have _just_ been informed about the method of execution, people – the Mockingjay herself, Katniss Everdeen, will shoot an arrow at the former President!"

This news must have made its way to the people in the City Circle because the roaring gets louder, and I could swear it's become somewhat feral.

The view switches to one just outside the mansion, and I can see the big former Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, bustling about and issuing last-minute instructions. His jaunty grin as he points at a spot about ten meters away from the pole tells me he's enjoying this.

Then Plutarch Heavensbee heads back inside while the six former Victors walk out of the large front doors to stand on the grounds outside Snow's mansion. Oddly, Peeta Mellark looks a little bit uncomfortable as he stands next to the older man, Haymitch. There are other people nearby the Victors who look vaguely familiar from news snippets here and there. The camera swivels upward to take in President Coin as she stands on the balcony once occupied by Snow every Hunger Games.

Somehow, it's fitting. A new President sacrificing the old as a final tribute. The crowd surely thinks the same, for they cheer and wave as she nods once to acknowledge the people in the Circle. The crowd subsides again, but not for long.

I see Plutarch bring out Katniss, and as the crowd sees this the excited babbling spikes into a sudden roar, which rises even higher as she stands at the indicated spot for her, her jaw set, her eyes hard.

Former President Snow gets frog-marched out the front door a few minutes later, and the crowd's appetite for revenge is in the resulting explosion of derision and jeering. The camera shows him coughing up blood, but the Mockingjay doesn't even notice as she readies her bow and notches her arrow as I've seen her do a dozen times, in Hunger Games and propaganda pieces.

Then the impossible happens.

Her arrow shifts upward as she releases it, and President Coin's eyes widen in shock as she sways, then falls from the balcony, dead as she strikes the ground.

The crowd's stunned babbling accompanies Snow's coughing fit. The guards surround him, and more guards surround Katniss Everdeen. Peeta's rushing over to her as well.

I'm stunned.

What in Panem just _happened_?

I avidly watch the news, wondering what'll happen now. The reporter's voiceover mirrors my astonishment. "Unbelievable! Viewers, President Alma Coin has just been declared dead. The fatal shot, fired by the Mockingjay on nationwide television, can only make us wonder what will happen. Will she be executed as well? Will there be a trial? We will stay closely in touch with the Secretary of Communications and advise you the moment we learn more."

The view snaps to a camera trained on the reporter, who's standing amid a milling crowd in the City Circle. His hand is up to his ear, and he nods distractedly. "We have just learned that former President Coriolanus Snow is being examined. We do not as yet know if he is alive or dead."

_Unbelievable._

Katniss must have gone crazy. That's all I can guess. The Hunger Games, the war – all of it must have been too much for her.

If explosions can scare me half to death now, is it any wonder she's even worse off than me?

I shut the television off and go into my bedroom. In one of my drawers, I find a mockingjay pin, a throwaway item I'd bought when the fad hit the Capitol back during the Victory Tour, which seems like ancient history now.

I rub the mockingjay pin, wishing Katniss had killed Snow. Maybe I'd feel better about Mom if she had done that.

/\/\/\

The news the next day is filled with Katniss Everdeen's trial _in absentia_. She's charged with the murder of President Alma Coin, and it sure looks pretty straightforward. Then the defending attorney brings in Plutarch Heavensbee and a psychiatrist, Dr. Aurelius. Together, they mount a grand defence. Plutarch floridly paints a picture of a girl bearing up under impossible stresses even as she determined to win against the Capitol, while Dr, Aurelius, in his milder tones, recounts his assessment of her medical condition. It's sobering to hear words like "temporary aphasia," as that makes us realize she forgot how to talk for a while.

The judge causes the courtroom to erupt in cheers as he flatly states, "I hereby judge the defendant, Katniss Everdeen, not guilty by reason of insanity," then abruptly stands and leaves.

But my worst fears have been confirmed: the war was too much for Katniss Everdeen.

The Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay – the girl we all sneakingly admired after the 74th Games and going into the 75th Games – the girl who fearlessly gave propaganda pieces showing her fighting the war, prompting grudging, but quiet admiration even as the Capitol blasted her for being a traitor – she's gone. She is no more.

Why do I feel so lost?

She wasn't a leader, at least not in any real sense.

Jo and I didn't think so at the beginning. Guilt rushes through me as I remember how we excitedly sent money to sponsor Glimmer, not believing or caring that someone from the poorest District could possibly prove to be a winner.

And yet in the end, she captured our hearts and our minds as she emerged a Victor along with Peeta Mellark, and she returned again and again as she did the Victory Tour and came back for the 75th Hunger Games.

How is it that a simple mockingjay pin can symbolize so much? How is it that one person can be the public face of a reminder that we, the Capitol, were doing something so wrong?

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! :)


	11. Chapter 11

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 11

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Asedio Avalon**

Snow's dead. Choked on his own blood. Good riddance.

Another new government is hastily set up, with our brand-new President being a woman named Paylor. She was elected by what remained of the Senate after the war, and several people I've already seen on the news are officially appointed to government positions. The Provisional Government becomes a proper one, being retitled the Government of New Panem.

All this runs through my mind as I walk to school. Classes re-start today; this act of normalcy is almost enough to convince me that the last several months of shortages and war haven't happened, and that the Capitol never fell to the rebels.

The Peacekeepers standing guard at my school rather spoil that thought, although they're not doing anything but checking our ID cards and keeping the crowds orderly as we enter the school.

Amazingly, the only thing that's happened to the school is the dust covering the outside walls from them shaking during the bombing. No shattered windows, no broken doors – not even any looting. Either nothing here to take, or just the rebels had more important targets.

I make my way through the familiar corridors, brushing past a lot of people I sort of remember, ending up near my locker. I slap my thumb to the identiplate, and the door unlocks. Everything's still there where I left it, though the battery's probably dead in the laptop.

After shoving my laptop and solid-state disks into my school bag, I close the locker door and turn, only to freeze when Arcturus hesitates near me. He looks nervous as he comes up to me. He says, "Hi."

I fiddle with my shirt button and mumble, "Hey."

After a few seconds, Arcturus leans closer and says, "So… how's it going?"

I sigh. "Okay."

The tension between us finally gets to be too much. I blurt, "Arct, can we just sort of… forget what we did before? I haven't talked to Jo yet, even, and it's such a mess."

He casts his eyes down to his feet, then looks up and says, "Okay, sure. I mean, we were being pretty crazy that night."

It's weird, trying to go back to the way we were before. He's been _inside_ me, for crying out loud. I think this is why they always say friends don't fool with each other. Too damn complicated afterwards.

I look around furtively, noticing the people near us are busy with their own excited greetings and reunions. I say, "Look, I've gotta tell Jo. You know that, right?"

"Do you _have_ to?" whines Arcturus. "She's gonna _kill_ me. Well, first, she's gonna kill _you_. Then she's gonna kill me."

"Arct, I said some things to her I shouldn't have. I mean, she _slapped _me when we had our fight. That's how mad she was. If she wants to take me back she's gotta hear _everything_. I can't lie to her, man!"

He heaves a huge sigh. "All right, I get your point. Can we just forget about it now?"

I nod, relieved that the subject's closed between us.

Arcturus opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by the announcement: "All students please gather in the auditorium for further announcements and instructions."

The mass of students in the hallways begins to move towards the center of the school, where there's a huge semicircular theater which doubles as an auditorium for important school functions when it's not being used for plays and music.

Arcturus and I are aimng for seats near the exit doors when I bump into someone, only to realize uncomfortably that Jo's looking coldly at me.

I want to blurt out my apology, but Jo turns away and goes off to sit with a friend of hers near the front. As I sit next to Arcturus in the rear, I notice he saw the incident. He reaches up and gently pats my back, saying, "Better luck next time, huh?"

"I wish." I rub my hands along the arms of the theater chair. "I'm so nervous. You're right, Jo's gonna kill me."

Arcturus lets out a weak chuckle.

The Headmaster's going up the stairs to the stage. He gestures to someone in the back, and the room lights dim a bit, while the stage lights come up.

I survey the heads in the crowd, and maybe it's just my imagination, but there's not as many as there should be. Ominously, I remember Arcturus's discovery.

Headmaster Crosby begins his speech.

"I would like to first welcome you all back after a difficult time. For those of you whose brothers, sisters, parents, as well as friends, died in the war, I want you to know my sympathies are with you and I will excuse you from classes if you wish.

"Before I continue, however, I would like to have a moment of silence. Over a hundred of your fellow students have died in a war – a war we brought onto ourselves. Take a moment to reflect on them, for they did not die in vain. Their deaths are our lesson for the future."

The hall goes absolutely silent as he bows his head, his hands by his sides. I keenly examine the man as my thoughts run over the people who are missing… no, not missing. Dead. His head is almost entirely grey-haired now, and he's a slight, energetic man who I never suspected of harboring such opinions about the Capitol when Snow was President.

I grimace as I realize we Capitol people lied to each other perhaps as much as the government lied to us.

_A hundred people_.

I knew many of them. Not well, but I knew them. It's still not really real to me, the idea that the guy I once shared computer programming with, Fabricius Dumont, isn't going to be there anymore.

My thoughts cease as the Headmaster resumes his speech.

"A new era has dawned in a suitably named New Panem. At long last, the war is over and we can begin to discover, or rediscover, certain truths about ourselves and our people that, for too long, have been denied or hidden by a government corrupted by the absolute power once vested in our old Presidents.

"There are those who would say that the past is now dealt with and that we should look to the future. But there is an old saying: 'Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it'. We _must_ learn the truth about our history if we are to become coequal with the Districts in New Panem. For they – even District Two – know more about themselves and the past than we do.

"It is with this consciousness of the lies we have told ourselves and the Districts as self-justification for holding onto power, taking their wealth and their people from them, returning only oppression and injustice, that I have ordered a complete revision of the curriculum in history. From this point on until the end of your grade in school, all of you will spend your history classes learning about the _real_ story of Panem and the Districts; not what we have made up about them, but what they know about themselves and what we have done to them.

"In doing so, I hope you all will bring this new awareness of Panem's past to make a better future."

After a few moments of the Headmaster's silence, uncertain applause sweeps the auditorium. I look around, seeing confused expressions on many peoples' faces.

They'll learn, if Snow's death and the televised trials already haven't taught them. They'll learn what I've already had shoved in my face: what we really were in the Capitol.

But can we really look each other in the eyes and admit that we could be evil people? Could Arcturus bring himself to admit to me that his house, his drugs, his money were all bought on the backs of the people in District One? I can't even figure out what to think about Mom.

Maybe we just need to keep having it rubbed in our faces that we've lost.

/\/\/\

After everybody exits the auditorium and begins scattering off to classes, I walk down the hallway towards my next class, which is history.

The halls are still stark white and very sterile. They must have cleaned up before we came back.

After Arcturus breaks off for math, I stare down at the floor as I walk; I can feel people staring at me, probably because of my mom.

Uncomfortably, I scuttle into the history classroom, but I can't escape a stare from a girl in the class who I recall is named Iris.

As advertised, history class has changed. The teacher, Mr. Hellstrom, has us sit down at our desks. As we settle down, he says, "Welcome back, everyone."

He paces in front of the holographic projector near the front of the room. His desk, usually cluttered with history vids, is empty except for something I don't recognize sitting on it.

He says, "As you have all heard, our curriculum has drastically changed. Much of what we will learn comes from scattered archival materials that escaped destruction by the old government, and is still fragmentary. Secretary Heavensbee has indicated that new textbooks will be available sometime in the next two months.

"In the meantime, I would like to start with this book."

He holds up a battered bound-paper volume. "This volume, printed on paper, which you have learned about in your survey of the Districts last year, is one of the few surviving accounts of the history of Panem, then called North America.

"You will learn that it was, at one time, one of the wealthiest areas of our planet. Its population was not just in the hundreds of thousands as it is today, but in the hundreds of _millions_. People everywhere lived as we do in the Capitol.

"So, the modern history of Panem starts with, as this book recounts, the arrival of a water-bound ship called the _Mayflower_."

/\/\/\

The rest of the classes passed by in a blur; mostly people just sat around and talked about what happened during the war; I've had my fill of vicarious adventurism, and I spent my time half-heartedly attempting the old math problem set on my laptop that I never finished.

My mood still hasn't fully lifted by the end of the day, and it's not going to get any better because I've got to confess to Jo.

She's at her locker, putting her things away. She frowns as I approach and says, not looking at me, "Make it fast, Ace."

Desperately, I say, "Jo, we need to talk. Can we go somewhere quiet?"

She shuts the locker door, folds her arms and leans against the banks of lockers. Grudgingly, she says, "All right. There's the algorithmic simulation lab. It won't have anyone in it now."

As we walk in an uncomfortable silence, I notice Jo's chosen subdued clothing, like I have. I've got on a white shirt and black pants, and she's wearing practically the same kind of outfit. I try to resist checking her out as she opens the door ahead of me into the classroom, sees nobody there, and holds it open so I can come in.

She shuts the door, then gestures me over to a corner desk with computers in various stages of assembly on it.

As I sit, I say, "Jo, I'm sorry for – for what I said. I'm really, really, sorry. I was… okay, I was an asshole."

There's the hint of a smile to her lips as she replies, "That was"—she nods—"easier than I thought it'd be. I actually thought I might have to yell at you for a bit to get an apology."

"I wasn't being fair to you. That was pretty obvious after I quit stewing about it."

She purses her lips. "To be honest, staying mad at you was kind of hard after a day. But I wanted to know if you'd apologize before I started being nice to you again."

Oh geez. If only I could just not tell her. We could go back to being boyfriend and girlfriend again.

But I've got to.

"Jo? There's something you should know." I begin fiddling with a circuit analyzer.

She's looking at me uncertainly. "What? What happened?"

I look Jo in the eyes. "Arcturus and me." I try to swallow the lump in my throat. "That's… what happened," I conclude lamely.

As realization dawns on her, she's _seething_. In a low, strained voice, she says, "You _bastard_. You unmitigated _bastard_. What'd you do, jump straight into his arms at that party he had?" She shouts, "I can't _believe_ this. Fucking your best friend behind my back!"

Defensively, I blurt, "He fucked _me_, Jo!"

"Oh, well, being underneath him makes it _so_ much better. Really, Ace!" The sarcasm drips off her words.

I'm stuck. As I look at the floor, I say in a small voice, "I knew it was a mistake as soon as I woke up the next morning."

"Ha! Not soon enough if you ask me. Why'd you tell me? Just to make me hurt some more? Twist the knife?"

"Because I did something stupid and you deserved to know!" I yell. "I get it, Jo. I'm an idiot. You had an idiot for a boyfriend."

She looks perplexed for a second, but her anger's back. "Just get out of my sight. Don't talk to me. I'll talk to you when I think I can trust you again. Go, have fun with your new boyfriend."

I'm going to cry. Damn it, I don't want to. She'll think I'm just trying to manipulate her. I whisper, "We're not _like_ that, Jo. It was… you know what Arct's like at parties."

She sneers. "Don't give me the drugs excuse, okay? Just go. Now."

I grab my bag and leave the room. Hastily, I swipe my sleeve under my nose as I sniffle. Damn it all, anyway!

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work and helping with the writing of the scenes at Ace's school. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Jovanna Dacius**

It must be true, that old story I once heard about supernatural beings who played practical jokes on each other. That's got to be the reason I'm getting all this crazy stuff happening in my life – a war, then a tenuous peace that requires us all to think and act differently than we ever have before, and on a personal level, relationship problems.

As I enter the school's front doors, I'm thankful my locker is not next to Ace's, though I'll have to pass his to get to mine. That, however, doesn't stop me from being reminded that his life is as complicated as mine.

Ace is standing at his locker and Iris Folger's boyfriend, a guy named Tullus, seems to be talking to him. I ease a little bit closer so I can listen to what they're saying.

"Miss your mommy, _Asedio_?" simpers Tullus mockingly. Iris is giggling nearby, and oh boy, do I want to slap her. Ace slams his locker door shut, turns around and glares at Tullus.

Tullus is a bit taller and broader through the shoulders than Ace, and even from where I am, I can see the boy's arm muscles flex as he shoves Ace back against the bank of lockers. "Say, how's it feel, having a famous mommy? I saw her on the news, you know. Oh, I forgot! She did something bad to become famous. Oops!"

I grit my teeth. More people begin crowding near the pair, happy for a distraction. I'm almost ready to go in there myself, yesterday's events with Ace be damned.

Ironically, relief comes in the form of Arcturus, who shoves his way through the crowd, slamming his shoulder into Tullus. He barks, "Get the hell away from my friend, dickhead!"

Tullus laughs. It's an annoying laugh that's as pleasant as a hovercar screeching against the road as it lands too fast. "You're sticking up for the guy whose mom's mutts helped kill Finnick Odair?"

Arcturus's jaw sets. "He's still my friend, in case you haven't noticed. And he's not his mother. So shoo. Fuck off." He punctuates this with a hard shove that sends Tullus back a bit.

Tullus glares at Arcturus and Ace, then stalks off with Iris. The crowd begins to break up, and I rush off to my own locker. I'd rather not see the two of them together right now.

/\/\/\

Just before I leave school, I bump into Arcturus. After giving him my best 'die right now' glare, he stammers, "Jo, I'm sor—"

"Save it. Next time you do something stupid, try someone else."

I stalk off, eager to get home.

Once home, I drop my school stuff in my bedroom, and my eye catches the holo-cube, sitting on my dresser, that has pictures of me and Ace on each face.

Maybe one day I'll appreciate that he didn't want to lie to me when admitting what happened between him and Arcturus. But right now I'd rather just not look at him.

I snatch up the holo-cube and toss it in the back of my dresser drawer. Asedio Avalon can grin at my socks.

To distract myself, I start my homework until called downstairs for supper. My history class has most of the homework; we've been learning about the forms of government in existence in North America, which I've since learned was three major countries, plus some others. The one called Canada, we're still not clear on yet because the Department of Communications and Education is having trouble finding good archival material.

But the United States of America and the United Mexican States, we have learned, were based on very similar principles. My assignment is to compare how these governments operated to the way the Capitol government operated, and explain how these older governments tried to avoid concentrating power in the hands of one person.

For bonus marks, we're encouraged to imagine how these _democratic governments,_ as they were called, might work to equalize power between the Capitol and the Districts.

After supper, I'm watching the news as Mom and Dad are off double-checking the security system. We've had a rash of people trying the gate, obviously hoping to get in. I'm just lucky I haven't had my money or possessions stolen yet, but I always take safe routes with lots of people likely to be around.

I munch on an apple and realize that food-wise, I've been lucky. Some of my friends have had to pay almost all the money they've had to get a month's worth of food.

But what's giving me a weird sense of anticipation and dread is a news announcement about the surviving Victors of the Hunger Games.

The Secretary of Communications, now officially and properly appointed, is Plutarch Heavensbee. He's looking a bit uncomfortable as he stands behind a podium. Behind him, on a blue-curtained wall, is the new government insignia, the one I saw on that Peacekeeper way back.

He begins his speech with a sobering reminder.

"Citizens of the Capitol, I have an important announcement to make.

"You know that the Districts have won the war. We of the Capitol have supported the new government in every way possible, eager to bring an end to a corrupt government led by a vain, greedy, power-hungry man who would stop at nothing, even luring children, doctors and healers to their deaths in front of his own mansion. We have lost the war, and our government will soon be further reorganized to make all of us equal to one another, instead of having a Capitol govern twelve slave Districts.

"But the people of the Districts have rightly been embittered by over seventy years of cruelty, oppression, and injustice. Even Victors did not escape; there are only seven left out of over twenty prior to the war. They were suspected on both sides. Some died in battle, as Finnick Odair did. Others died at the hands of Peacekeepers eager to torture for more information.

"Because of the Hunger Games and because of the indignities visited on their fellow Victors, our government reluctantly concedes the necessity of righting the scales in some fashion. There are some from the Districts who favor using the remaining military firepower they have in their hands to destroy the entire Capitol and all of its people."

My hands fly to my mouth as I gasp. _Everyone?_ My mom, my dad, Ace, me… all dead? As sacrifices for revenge?

I stare, wide-eyed at the screen as Plutarch clears his throat and continues, looking steadily into the camera. It's like he's looking at me, seeing my fears and hopes.

"Luckily, the voices of reason have prevailed. But the Districts still cry out for justice. It is with solemn regret, but with a sense of necessity, that I inform you all that I have been made the Head Gamemaker for one last Hunger Games by a vote of the remaining seven Victors of the previous Games."

_Oh my sweet stars._ What are we going to… wait. My mouth goes completely dry as I realize what's going to happen, even as Plutarch keeps talking.

"For the first and only time, Capitol children aged twelve to eighteen will be required to register for a Reaping, to be held one and a half months from now. A week after that Reaping, the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games – the Capitol Games – will begin. Twenty-four Capitol children will go into one Arena…"

I whisper, "_And one will leave_."

The screen goes blank, and all I can do is think about complete chaos enveloping the Capitol.

* * *

Author Notes: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta reading! We'll rejoin Plutarch soon. XD

Also, if you look this up you will see that in fact, the official name of Mexico is "Estados Unidos Mexicanos", which means United Mexican States.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Capitol Games  
**Chapter 13

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Plutarch Heavensbee**

As soon as I finish my speech and the camera's red light winks off, I'm out of the Department of Communications as fast as I can go. If my worst fears are realized, then it's likely the Capitol will be in utter chaos soon and I'd rather not be in the middle of it.

After roaring back to my apartment building in my Head Gamemaker's official hovercar and landing on the rooftop parking lot, I activate the security system on the car, then make my way back to my apartment, whereupon I throw the bolt-lock in addition to the electrical lock, then set the security system to alert me if anyone tries to break in through my door or windows.

Within five minutes of me grabbing a coffee and sitting at my table, the videophone's blaring an alert.

It's Paylor. When her face comes on the screen, the first thing she says is, "Plutarch, I just saw your announcement on the news. I've already gotten a couple of calls from some people in the Senate who have children and are shocked that this is happening. You'd better be prepared."

"I will be," I say confidently. "Look, the news has been pretty Capitol-focussed lately and we need to get more from the Districts onto the media. I'm going to send out some TV crews to interview District people and try to really make people here understand how close we actually came to Coin deciding to let the hotheads have their day."

Paylor eyes me with skepticism. "You know Coin had no intention of letting that happen because the population would have fallen below viability. You also know it wasn't Snow who ordered those deaths in the City Circle." She rubs her face and says, "You Capitol people seem to take to lying way too casually."

"What would you have had me say?" I plead. "If people knew Alma Coin had used that hovercraft over the City Circle as a propo trick to make the Capitol people hate Snow, they'd feel like this war wasn't fairly fought. Look, you have to realize how dangerous 'stab in the back' myths can get! _World wars_ have been fought because leaders were able to convince whole populations that they had been 'stabbed' by someone else!

"If people in the Capitol start getting the idea that they were stabbed in the back by Coin, the unrest we'll see now due to my announcement will seem like a calm day by comparison. They need to get the District perspective and they need it _now_."

Paylor replies, "I suppose you can have the crews interview me, too. I _am_ from District Eight, after all."

I grin. "Lay it on thick if you have to."

She grimaces but only says, "Good night, Plutarch."

I nod and sign off as well.

After heaving a gusty sigh, I drink off my coffee in one gulp, then set the videophone to redirect all messages. No sense in passing a sleepless night from that thing's bleeping every few minutes.

As I get ready for bed, my mind goes back to the years when Crane was Head Gamemaker, and it was just him, me, and Haymitch tenuously starting out with vague notions of a grand conspiracy to rebel against the Capitol.

My mind is going to be on the District kids I've helped kill. Releasing those mutts on Katniss, Peeta and Cato was just the latest of my sins in the name of heightening drama in the Games, as was approving the jabberjays being placed in one of the clock sectors of the arena. It's of little consolation to know Snow personally liked the effect they had on Katniss, which is what probably kept him from wondering why I stayed awake so much during the Quarter Quell.

And now I'll have to do it all over again one last time. I and all of Panem will watch President Snow's granddaughter and twenty-three other kids get sent into an Arena to feel the same fear as the District tributes they once watched for fun.

/\/\/\

The next morning, I'm awake before the sun's up. One look at the backlog of videophone messages and I groan and mutter, "Forget it."

After getting ready for the day, I make sure to lock up my apartment securely, testing the door to be sure it won't budge. Then I go up to the roof and cautiously eye my hovercar in the gathering morning light. It doesn't look like anyone set a trap for me, so I gingerly key the remote to let me into the car.

Soon, I'm aloft, and the handling also seems normal. Relieved, I set course for the Gamemaker headquarters, trusting the guidance computer to do it automatically.

As I ride high up by the tallest spires of the Capitol, I notice people rushing up and down the streets. Knots of people at each major intersection tell me the news has flashed all over. I reach over and activate the heads-up display for one of the major news channels.

"—citizens are still reeling in shock after the announcement by Secretary Heavensbee yesterday. As of about eight o'clock this morning we have still been unable to reach him for further comment."

The reporter's gaze drops as touches her ear briefly. She nods absently, then looks into the camera again. "We've just had word that a camera crew is outside the Capitol Heights Secondary School, and the Peacekeeper forces have doubled their guard to control crowds of students who have already gathered to protest the introduction of the Capitol Games."

The view abruptly cuts to another woman. I momentarily look at the city buildings to get my bearings and see that I'll make it to the Gamemaker HQ soon.

I've noticed the news agencies seem to have deliberately tried to choose people who fit the District standards of ordinariness rather than ours. This woman could walk around all day being unnoticed by anyone not specifically speaking to her.

Her voice, however, carries well in the hovercraft's speakers. "Thank you, Flora. As you can see, behind me is a crowd of students resisting Peacekeeper orders to enter the school. No physical altercations have broken out, but emotions are running high."

I see a knot of maybe thirty students milling around by the stairs going up to the front doors of the school, spilling out from the wide concrete walkway onto the grass lawn surrounding the school. Peacekeepers are trying to firmly push students back towards the walkway and stairs, but the shouting students are holding their own. One bellows, "No more Games for anyone!"

The woman turns to her left and sees a young man walking a bit uncertainly across the street to the school. She catches up to him and has a brief conversation. He nods, after which she attaches a small microphone to his shirt. Then they both walk up close to the camera.

She says to him, "Hi. I'm Dora Gantry. What's your name?"

The boy, who's probably fifteen or sixteen, has straight black hair and blue eyes which are too intense to be natural. He's wearing a fairly typical Capitol teenager outfit: a smart black coat with a shiny light blue shirt and black pants. His expression seems a bit strained as he replies, "Asedio. Asedio Avalon, I mean."

"Good. Well, Asedio, did you hear the announcement last night?"

He nods. "Mm-hmm."

"What do you think of it?"

He sighs, looking somewhat lost. "I think it's unfair, personally; I mean, I'm sixteen. But we've lived off the Districts for so long it almost has to come back to us somehow, doesn't it?"

"What would you do if your name was called at the upcoming Reaping?"

His eyes go wide and he shivers a bit. "I haven't even thought that far, to be honest. It's scary, you know."

Dora nods and says, "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Avalon."

Being addressed that way forces a chuckle from the boy, and his fleeting grin reveals the heartbreaker he probably is for the girls at school. Dora gets her mini-microphone back and the young man, Asedio, walks over to the crowd.

The hovercraft is now just about over the landing pad at Gamemaker Central, so I kill the news channel and start the landing sequence.

* * *

Author Note: Thanks go to **SkyWriter9** for the beta work! Sorry I've been away from this fic for so long.


End file.
